Heaven's Grace
by anoceaninthesun
Summary: It starts with a life she can't remember. Raised a hunter, Gracie is convinced she wants to be normal. But that's not something a Winchester, let alone an empath, gets to choose. And so she and her brothers become the catalysts in a war between angels and demons, with their freedom and the fate of humanity hanging in the balance. Sisfic eventual SamxOCxDean
1. Prologue

**Hi! Welcome to** _Heaven's Grace_ **! I just wanted to say while I am a veteran to the site and writing fics I am new to this particular fandom and a little nervous. This idea has been in my head for over a year, before I even got that deep into Supernatural, and because of that reason I have really grown attached to this story, Gracie in particular. I worked really hard on her, giving her a unique identity and making her as dynamic an OC as possible. She will change and develop throughout the story as much as Sam and Dean. It'd mean** _ **so**_ **much to get some feedback. Please just try not to rip me apart, though, okay? I have a LOT to learn, I know… (I have the first seven seasons on dvd). I also know about major plot development mainly through spoilers in Fanfiction, but I don't know every tiny detail.**

 **I don't own (the rights to) squat related to** _ **Supernatural**_ **—it's Eric Kripke's brainchild. But, I do own Grace and any other minor characters I may make up for placement sake.**

 **Warning! This is gonna have heavy Wincest later on! But probably** _ **not**_ **of the SamxDean variety. No, it will be SamxOCxDean (M/F/M). And** _ **possibly (not guaranteed)**_ **CastielxOC later as well. Same OC—lucky bitch, right?**

 **Please don't read it if you don't like sis!fics, 'cause this is definitely gonna be one. However, I will try to keep it as original as possible, bearing in mind the types of sister characters I've seen so far. But Gracie's definitely not a "kick-ass" type character, nor is she an under-developed Sue. So I'd like to think it should be interesting. I did a lot of research about a lot of things before I even started this story—I really wanted to nail it. I may still occasionally need help from time to time and will ask reviewers (assuming I'll get some) when that time comes. To be honest she's kind of the first original character I've had that really just wrote herself.**

 **P.S. I took a lot of liberties with the angel stuff in the beginning. Yes, I realize Gabe left heaven when pagan gods were big on Earth, so that's changed a little but probably won't effect the overall story very much. I just needed to throw in some familiar faces for the sake of Gracie's development later on. XD So I took a lot of liberties with this first part, which was extremely difficult for me to write and I literally have like a dozen different versions of this first chapter alone. Please no flames for now, kay?**

 **Summary:** Gracie Winchester is Sam's twin sister and an empath. She loves her family more than anything, but like Sam, she longs for a life without the constant dangers of hunting. Over the years, she struggles to come to grips with the fact that she's different, even by Winchester standards. Fearing that she may not be completely human, she decides to hide her special powers from her stern father and protective brothers. But can she continue to keep her secret safe without their help, especially when she becomes caught in a war between Heaven and Hell with their very souls on the line?

* * *

 **In Heaven**

Selphiel was currently one of the youngest angels in heaven, and so was treated as such by all the others. The others saw her as a newborn that had yet to prove herself, and she was generally disregarded when tasks came down the ladder. No one had ever even allowed her to go down to the world she loved viewing so much. Still she waited patiently for the day she'd be assigned something and her purpose would be revealed. Not all angels were warriors…though most had some kind of training. A select few were made guardians to special humans. Selphiel delighted in the thought of having a human all her own to watch over.

But there were none who found her more simultaneously intriguing and perplexing than the angel Castiel.

Selphiel was one of the few that Ariel opened up to, and so he had became acquainted with her through the stoic older female. He had met the odd fledging on several occasions. Shortly after being introduced to the others and written off as "the queerest angel in heaven", he was told one day that it would be decided he would teach her to spar. Gabriel hadn't been doing enough to appease his fellow archangels in training the fledgling, and it was seen as a mockery. From what he'd been told, she barely knew how to wield her angel blade.

Ariel brought the timid female along and turned her over to Castiel. "Castiel, this is Selphiel. You are to teach her how to become a proper warrior. Do not hold back."

That command had been simple enough. Castiel never held back when it came to his duties. He had a great deal of respect for Ariel, and while he found it odd that he of all soldiers should train the awkward fledgling, he didn't object.

Figuring she was unpolished and he would need to start from the beginning, he refrained from drawing his angel blade. Sword fighting could wait until a later lesson. "Have you been taught how to smite demons yet?" he asked.

The blank look he got told him all he needed to know. This fledgling knew nothing. "Follow me," he beckoned, not waiting as he fluttered his way to one of Heaven's interrogation rooms. The gust behind him told him that she had followed obediently. Castiel glanced behind him and fixed her with a look that told her to come closer, so Selphiel slowly crept forward, gasping at the sight of the hideous creature bound to a chair, coal black eyes glaring menacingly. "Is that—"

Castiel nodded. "Yes, concentrate your grace into your fingertips."

Confused, Selphiel began channeling her grace to her open hand. An odd thrumming was beginning to fill her, and she felt a sense of power she'd never known before.

She looked at Castiel's stoic face, "Now banish it."

The demon squealed as Selphiel brought a glowing hand to its head. The young angel watched in horror and awe as the demon's eyes glowed and it seemed to explode under her touch. There was a rush she'd never known before. So that was how to smite…

She turned to Castiel, who gave her an imperceptible nod. "Good. Let's move on." Selphiel swallowed. She knew this was what angels were always intended to do. They were soldiers first, and smiting demons was part of that job description, but she wasn't sure what unsettled her more. The fact that banishing it gave her an overwhelming rush of power or the fact that she felt actual glee.

That was the moment things changed for Selphiel. She knew she was being prepared, but she couldn't imagine what for. Castiel was a firm instructor. He gave her orders, but he never guided her through what she was expected to do, just let her figure things out on her own. She came to understand when he was pleased or disappointed by the small ticks of his expression. She also sensed emotions like they were second nature; touching her brethren made their emotions flow into her as if they were her own.

It made the other angels wary. Only a select few chose not to keep their distance. Gabriel personally helped her learn to meditate, to better reign this ability under control. He also appeased her curiosity about earth and its most amazing inhabitants by telling her stories of the times he'd been there over the millennia.

Over time these stories only made her desire to see the human world grow stronger. "But why won't you take me?" she asked the archangel one day.

Gabriel gave her an impish grin, shrugging. "Sorry kiddo, Dad's rules. You have to stay here until your training is complete."

Selphiel felt slightly betrayed. She knew Gabriel went to earth whenever he pleased, doing Father only knew what, with or without permission. "But…But you go when you want, don't you?"

The archangel smirked, clearly amused. "Well yeah, but that's one of the perks of being me." Selphiel gave him a disappointed frown. "Oh c'mon don't give me that look. It's not to be mean, it's just…you're safe up here." Selphiel wanted to protest but Gabriel raised a hand to silence her, "Down _there_ is another story, an untrained angel with _clumsy_ control of her powers at best could easily be taken off guard and overwhelmed." The archangel raised a brow and Selphiel hung her head, unable to deny that she had still far from perfected control over her grace, or her combat skills. She could probably take out low ranking demons, but when she sparred with Castiel he was still besting her more often than not, even when she went all out. He was far from the most powerful of Heaven's warriors, as strong as he was. If she couldn't take down Cas she probably couldn't take down one of hell's tougher agents. "Demons crawling around like cockroaches down there, causing pain. So the best thing you can do for now is be prepared."

Selphiel knew he was right…it wasn't worth it. Seeing earth up close could get her killed. The fledgling unfolded her wings. "Where are you going?"

"I…I need to meditate." She answered quietly.

Gabriel sighed, watching her go. He had a soft spot for the fledgling, he really did. At first it was boredom that made him take interest. She was probably the most amusing angel Heaven had seen in millennia. Then he took pity on her, watching her struggle to fit in. That was something they had in common, both a little too close to humanity. He could sympathize. Now as Gabriel watched over her, saw her sparring with Castiel, the enthusiasm and curiosity mirrored in her soul that reminded him so much of himself during the beginning of his creation he realized there was a growing fondness. Maybe that was why he told her the stories and spent so much time with her, even though it probably wasn't helping her in the long run to feed her curiosity.

"Oh Dad, what could you possibly have in store for that one?" he mumbled.

Ariel found her tucked away in her coveted spot, perched above the cluster of personal heavens where the human souls dwelled. It was where Selphiel spent a good amount of time, because it was the closest she could get to humanity. She never understood the young angel's fascination, nor did she understand her own fascination with Selphiel, but being near the fledgling was what she imagined would be considered soothing. There was a healing quality to her grace that just drew her in. So maybe her reasons were selfish, more than likely.

Ariel just knew that the angel, rumored to be a seraphim, had captivated her in the same way she imagined Castiel was. He had expressed to her that through training the fledgling, he felt he was seeing things he had missed for so long. Ariel thought she understood what he meant. They were angels, but most of them still had stained themselves in blood in the name of their Father long ago. She herself had taken the lives of humans and demons alike. It didn't matter if that was what orders dictated she do. It was hard to have the kind of unobstructed, pure glow that Selphiel possessed after seeing and doing so much.

"I knew I'd find you here." Selphiel jolted, looking behind her to see her older sister approaching. Ariel sat beside her, eyes distant.

"Hello Ariel, I was just watching them…it calms me."

"I know," she allowed herself a small chuckle. Most of Heaven did. "Since your creation you have found great fascination in humanity, haven't you?" Selphiel looked embarrassed, though it was really no secret. The others knew, and she was sure they frowned upon how preoccupied she was with the lives of mortals, but no one had ever come right out and said it. She braced herself for Ariel's admonishment.

"You misunderstand. I don't point it out to chastise you. I…the others find it reprehensible, yes. But lately I have come to also see the appeal of humanity."

Selphiel was surprised at the least, but with Ariel so close, there was no hiding it. The normally stoic female was genuinely curious about humanity. A swell of relief washed over her. Maybe she would have someone besides Gabriel to confide in now!

Ariel continued, "Ever since your arrival I've watched you, and in doing so, my own interest in them has been piqued. They are far from graceful and susceptible to deeds of great wickedness, but they also have something we lack…It was our Father's wish for us to love them, but many have forgotten that. They find genuinely cherishing humanity hard to do, and admiring them has become almost a taboo." Selphiel listened to Ariel in wonder. She was normally not so open with her own thoughts, even among those she respected.

"But you embrace them openly, even if you've never been to earth. You find loving humanity, loving all of God's creations simple. I envy you." Selphiel was speechless. "I think the others do as well, to an extent. You are clumsy and caring, traits that make fulfilling duties as a soldier hard, but you have not lost sight of Father's true intentions, and that in itself is enviable."

"Sister, I—"

Ariel smirked, a glint of amusement in her eyes. But Selphiel sensed something deeper. Something like yearning and sadness. "I may have said too much. You came here to meditate and I'm filling your mind with all kinds of complex questions, I'm sure. I will leave you now." She stood fluidly, her wings arching behind her. "Don't think anymore on what I've said. You do not have to change to fulfill His role for you. I see that now. You were made this way for a reason."

Ariel left her in a powerful flap of wings, but Selphiel knew that no matter what she'd said about forgetting, her words wouldn't leave that easily.

Selphiel's eyes lit up, bright with hope and disbelief. "A mission?"

Castiel nodded. "Yes, you've been given your first assignment on earth. We'll be leaving shortly." She didn't know what to say, her heart thundered and her wings flapped restlessly.

"What part of earth?"

"The continent of Europe. It's being ravished by plague right now, and we feel demons may be to blame. Our orders are to investigate if this is true and if possible, eliminate the threat."

"I understand." Selphiel replied. "But don't we need vessels?"

Castiel sat down and motioned for Selphiel to join. "Yes, we'll need to acquire permission first, so we'll try reaching out to the two suitable potential vessels I've been observing."

"What should I do?"

"Concentrate on the human you wish to communicate with. A young girl named Amanda Rodale that lives in England."

Selphiel concentrated as Castiel talked about Amanda. What she looked like, where she was, her fear as she watched the plague spread around her and her devout belief in God. It wasn't long before the image of a young girl appeared before her, kneeling in a modest church and praying fervently.

Selphiel saw her startle as she sensed the celestial presence communing with her, and when she explained that she was an angel and asked to use Amanda's body, the girl began weeping tears of joy, nodding happily. "Yes!"

Selphiel felt like she was being sucked into some kind of vacuum as her grace funneled into Amanda. She blinked, and suddenly her world was different. She was seeing through Amanda—through human eyes. Slowly climbing to her feet, Selphiel glanced around for Castiel, but she was alone in the quiet church.

"Castiel?" she called, venturing outside. "Castiel?" A hand clamped on her arm, dragging her out of the way of an incoming carriage.

Selphie gasped, staring up into the face of a jolly-looking pastor. But the stoic expression that didn't match his round face was all too familiar."I advise you not to openly refer to me by name. For the sake of the mission we must be as inconspicuous as possible. We must appear human."

Selphiel nodded stiffly. "Yes, where should we start then?"

"This air, this city is rife with such sickness I'd say it's the work of a Horseman if I didn't know better. But I've heard murmurs of this town being overrun with witches."

Curious, Selphie tilted her head in thought. "Are witches really powerful enough to cause something as massive as this? The whole continent has been effected."

"Maybe not on their own…but with the work of a powerful enough demon, it may be possible. The coven more than likely is working in league with one. We'll start by searching out a member of the coven. Look for anyone suspicious."

Selphiel nodded and the two angels set to work looking for anyone who looked like they were involved in witchcraft. Castiel quickly became annoyed with the amount of humans who approached, asking Pastor Dane to pray over their houses to protect them from the plague. But Selphiel was simply immersed in the sights and sounds of the human world. There were people peddling their goods, some milling around and children chasing a cat.

She hardly noticed when she wandered away from Castiel, too fascinated by what she saw around her. It was only when she bumped shoulders with another human did she take notice of her surroundings. The girl cried out in pain as the pail of hot water she'd been carrying splashed on her hand. The angel rushed to help her up, taking her uninjured hand as she pulled her to her feet. "Forgive me."

The human, a dark-haired, pale girl of about eighteen, shook her head and hastily pulled away. "Yeah, just watch where you're going…" she mumbled, rubbing her scalded hand. Only, the pain she'd felt a minute before was gone. She glanced down, expecting to find blotchy red skin, only to see her hand looking just as pale and normal as the other.

"H-how?"

Selphiel gasped, realizing she must have inadvertently healed the girl through touch. The girl studied her quizzically and Selphiel took a cautious step back. "Hey, you're the baker's daughter, aren't you? Amanda, isn't it?"

Her human heart thudding in her chest, Selphiel nodded quickly. "Y-Yes! I'm Amanda Rodale."

"I thought I recognized you…I buy bread from your father every Tuesday. My name is Ruby, remember?" Searching Amanda's memories, Selphiel was able to find out that this Ruby was a regular visitor to the bakery, and also one of the local girls rumored to be a practitioner of witchcraft. Amanda had a healthy dose of fear for this girl and tried her best to avoid her.

"Yes I do, Ruby. I should be going. My father set me on an errand and I should have been back by now." She curtsied, darting off into the crowd so Ruby wouldn't see her disappear into thin air.

She didn't notice the glare Ruby sent toward the ground as she picked up an obsidian broach she'd dropped when she fell and pocketed it.

* * *

"You've found one of the witches?" Castiel had to admit that he was impressed. She was doing better with this assignment than he'd anticipated.

"Yes! Her name is Ruby. I looked through Amanda's memories. Ruby and four other girls have been seen going into the forest during full moons, and one of the girls was caught performing a satanic ritual and hanged."

"Selphiel, are you sure of this? It's very important we don't give away our cover if this information is simply spawned from unfounded paranoia."

"I understand Castiel, but I touched Ruby and there was something wrong with her soul…I didn't recognize what until after seeing Amanda's memories."

"Hm…So she's branded. Good work. It'll be that much easier to locate her master, most likely the demon we're looking for."

"When will we strike?"

"If they operate under a full moon, that's tonight. We'll ambush them then."

After finding and capturing the coven, they learned that the who had collected the souls of Ruby and the other young witches wasn't the one who had unleashed the bubonic plague on Europe. Castiel still felt vindicated in killing her, though. The remaining witches Selphiel wanted to spare. Their souls were already doomed to an eternity of damnation, and with their master gone they couldn't finish learning to be powerful witches. Somewhat disappointed that the fledgling still retained her gentle nature, he struck each of the young witches down anyway. Only one, the girl named Ruby had escaped. Instead of hunting her down, Castiel decided they'd return to heaven and report.

It would be a long, long time before Selphiel saw earth again...

* * *

Angels didn't need sleep, so Selphiel spent her time watching. She was always restless. Having been to earth once and then being forbade from going back for some reason...she was bored and itching for an adventure, two things combined that usually meant getting up to mischief with Gabriel. The archangel was something of a free-spirited prankster, which amused Selphie to no end, though he told her his brothers thought that he didn't conduct himself the way an archangel should.

Selphiel secretly thought it was a good thing that Gabriel wasn't as self-righteous as the others. She continued to enjoy the company of Ariel and Castiel, but sometimes she preferred Gabriel's easygoing demeanor. It was the closest thing she had to fun since she couldn't visit earth. She just wondered why no one would tell her she was on celestial lock-down.

She'd try to ask only for the question to be avoided. This time she was determined to get a clear answer though. That was why she was playing Gabriel's ridiculous version of hide and seek...she had to find all the clues to reveal his whereabouts, and if she did, he'd promised to answer one question. It was just too bad she'd managed to get herself lost like she was...

There were still many parts of Heaven she hadn't seen before, and some places she was told she shouldn't concern herself with seeing. The more she thought of it, the more it irritated her that she was confined in a protective bubble, even in the supposedly safe realm of their Father. Wherever she was now, it was definitely one of those places she'd been advised not to visit. The atmosphere was different, for one, it felt like her grace was being repressed somehow. It was still there, but it was like it'd been forced to be dormant inside her.

Angels stood guard everywhere and she thought to ask them for help, but they honestly intimidated her. Their wings were raised aggressively and they had tight grips on their angel blades, ready to cut down intruders. She decided she'd rather find her own way out and slipped by them as quietly as she could. Now, she was in a large, stone hall where shackles where barred rooms were lined in a row along the walls.

If she didn't know better she'd say it was some kind of prison...but what would heaven need with place like this? Then she remembered the time Castiel had showed her how to smite a demon and it all came rushing back to her. This was a prison, probably used to torture and interrogate heaven's enemies...This wasn't somewhere she should be.

Selphiel turned around and retraced her steps opening a door that looked vaguely familiar, hoping it would lead to outside. Instead she found herself peaking into a room with an angel strapped to a cold table, cut up and begging to be released. That wasn't the most disturbing thing, but the fact that she recognized one of the angels as Castiel, standing there in his most recent vessel.

Selphiel willed herself to be absolutely quiet. She didn't even think his name for fear that he'd hear it. She watched in muted horror as the angel she vaguely recognized from Castiel's garrison as Uriel repeatedly nicked the squirming angel with an angel blade Dozens of shallow cuts from what she could see. His grace bled through, not enough to kill him, but enough to cause pain. Why wasn't Castiel stopping this; what was going on? They were torturing one of their own kind!

"You must understand the position they've placed you in. They used you as a scapegoat. Now, tell us who is involved in this rebellion and we'll handle this master civilly."

"I-is that why I'm strapped to this table?" the wounded angel gasped. "So we can have a civil talk?"

"Talk, you cowardly worm," Uriel hissed, slicing a deeper cut across the angel's abdomen. Selphiel flinched as he screamed in pain. "Who. Is. Leading. This. Rebellion?"

"I-it's not a rebellion. W-we just...wanna be free." he wheezed. From her place, crouched behind the door, Selphiel contemplated his words. She thought they were free. Sure they had missions, duties handed down to them by God, but they still had free will. That was freedom, wasn't it?

"So you plan to fall?" Castiel sighed. "The most despicable act an angel can possibly commit? You do realize everything you'd been giving up, all you'd be throwing away."

"What does it matter anyway? Falling, rebelling...anything is better than...than here!"

"Silence!" Uriel boomed, slicing the angel across the forehead. He groaned in agony, practically begging for the torture to stop. Uriel ignored the cries, "Castiel, words are wasted on this spineless leech. He'll never hear reason."

There was a long pause and Selphiel hoped Castiel wasn't thinking what she thought he was. "...Yes, I'm afraid you're right." Castiel agreed quietly. "If there really is no other way, then make it quick Uriel."

Uriel raised his angel blade, "With pleasure," he replied. "So long traitor." he spat at the quivering angel. In that moment, Selphiel didn't know what happened as she flew to the restrained angel without hesitation and shielded him just as the angel blade plunged through her.

There was a strangled gasp as the worse pain she'd ever known cut through her. Selphiel looked down, sighing as she saw the shaken angel underneath her, still alive. She stumbled away from the table, instinctively calling for Gabriel as she felt herself weakening. She wanted to see her older brother one last time.

Castiel was stunned by what he saw. Selphiel's countenance, pale and stricken with shock and betrayal, her mouth gasping for air as she convulsed violently. Uriel's face portrayed the proper amount of panic, for once, as he stared at his fellow angel impaled by his blade, watching the light dim from her eyes.

Gabriel ran to support her as she slumped forward, hearing her call and feeling her agony.

Normally playful, Gabriel's features were clearly marred with worry as her tremors grew worse. It was a miracle she was still struggling to hold on. Maybe it was because she was a seraphim, or the angel of healing. But she was still dying, just slower than most. He tried to steady her as best he could; swiping long pieces of hair from her face and watching helplessly as blood slowly stained her vessel's lips and trickled down her chin. There was already a bright crimson stain on her clothes.

"Foolish fledgling," Uriel muttered bitterly, stepping away.

Gabriel shot Uriel a contemptuous look from over his shoulder before returning his attention to the quickly fading female. "Selphiel," he muttered, placing pressure on the wound in vain. "Don't do this."

Selphiel, her eyes already losing focus, found Gabriel's pained face and in an effort to comfort him, gently placed a hand against his face. "I…" she coughed, shuddering with the effort it took to speak.

Castiel felt he should make his presence known, but he was too transfixed with watching the angel he had always found strangely captivating, bleeding out in Gabriel's arms.

Gabe's jaw set in determination. The normally mischievous archangel carefully lifted his dying sister into his arms, cradling her close to himself as if the connecting of their graces alone would be enough to save her. "Hold on, kiddo…I know what to do." He flashed away before Castiel's wide eyes, taking the fading presence of Selphie's grace with him.

On a special area of cloud that overlooked earth, one of her favorite places, he gently lay her down. By now she was fighting for breath, her eyes all but completely glazed over. Somewhere inside his heart seized up at seeing the once bright and compassionate angel withering into no more than a husk before him. He worked quickly in disrobing her, knowing if she was more cognizant she would probably be flustered and scrambling to cover herself.

The thought made him smirk slightly as he finished removing her clothing until the ugly hole that was sapping her life away was fully exposed. Gabriel glared at it, willing it to close, knowing it wouldn't be enough. If only their Father wasn't always absent. He gritted his teeth. How could He just watch one of His children, the most selfless of them all, suffer?

Now wasn't the time though. There was only one way to save Selphiel. And it was dangerous… "Selphie…if you can hear me, then this is goodbye for a while, ok?" he whispered with gentleness he never knew he possessed, stroking her now waxy cheek. Her breath hitched again and he hurried on, "I'm going to send you to earth," he swallowed, "You'll be reborn…completely human. You won't remember me, Heaven or any of us. But I'll remember you. And don't worry, I'll hold onto your grace for you. You'll get it back one day."

From the hidden spot where he watched, Castiel could not believe what he was hearing. Taking the grace of another angel, or even voluntarily removing one's own grace, was perhaps one of the highest crimes an angel could commit. Was his brother, one of heaven's most powerful archangels, really willing to make such sacrifices for a mere fledgling? Surely this wasn't just about losing a soldier and a healer?

"Castiel," The aforementioned angel jerked in alarm. "Come here. I'm sure she'll want to say goodbye to you as well." Obedient to his superiors, Castiel trudged forward, kneeling to stare solemnly into the face of his dying brethren. Her dimming eyes glittered like embers on cooling coals, alive for just that moment. She placed a hand against his cheek, giving him a final, watery smile. Castiel reached up to cup his hand over hers as he felt the warmth of her grace fading, his eyes troubled for the first time in eons.

"Good…bye Cas…C-Castiel," he heard her whisper. She turned to Gabriel with eyes that barely opened and he nodded, knowing it was time. Gabriel reached a hand into her body and began pulling something out, his arm nearly translucent. Castiel watched in silent horror as she began screaming in pain, Gabriel grit his teeth against the noise, removing her grace bit by bit. When nothing more than a thread of her grace remained, the archangel began chanting a spell in Enochian, so old not even Castiel knew what it meant.

Then she was plunging backward, falling. Falling to earth. Reflexively, he reached for her just as she shimmered out of reach, gone. When he next saw her, many years from then, she wouldn't remember him, or their talks, or the heavenly realm they'd called home. She would be human.

* * *

 **Lawrence, Kansas— 1983**

 **Winchester Household**

Mary Winchester perked up as she heard the familiar rumble of a Chevy Impala pulling into the drive, setting aside the small outfit she'd been knitting. She stood, excited, rushing to the door to greet her returning husband and son with a hand on her bulging stomach. John Winchester blinked as his wife all but flung the door open before he could so much as reach for his keys, an ear to ear grin on her face. "There you are! My two men. Welcome home," she greeted them, hugging them both and kissing her young son on the forehead. She stopped bouncing long enough to give her husband a lingering kiss on the lips, conveying her happiness through it.

" _Ew_ ," Dean giggled.

John pulled away to smirk down at his son. "You know, son, one day you're going to find a girl you really like and want to kiss."

Dean shook his head stubbornly. "No way, daddy! Girls have cooties."

Mary playfully arched a brow, carefully leaning closer to her son's height. "Really? So you don't wanna be mommy's big boy anymore? Since I have cooties?"

The little boy's green eyes instantly became wide with panic. "No mommy! I _am_ your big boy!" he quickly clarified.

Mary giggled, hoisting her son into her arms to hug him affectionately. "I know; that's my good boy. Now, go put away your book bag, ok?" she told him, setting him down.

Dean nodded and raced to his room as soon as his feet touched the ground again. John watched him go, pride clearly evident in his eyes before he turned to his wife, smiling lovingly as he embraced her, resting his chin on her shoulder. "So, what did the doctor say?" he whispered. "Everything okay in there?"

Feeling her excitement returning, Mary managed to partially turn in his arms and kiss his cheek. "He gave me a clean bill of health. Says I'm doing great. The babies are developing normally and everything should go fine." John nodded, kissing her neck gently, before her words sank in. He pulled away slowly, fully turning her so he could look directly into her sparkling blue eyes.

"Honey…d-did you just say… _babies_?" he stuttered slightly.

Mary's eyes only brightened as the shock slowly registered on his face. She tried and failed to stifle a small laugh. "That's right," she nodded.

"Then, that means…?"

Her smile was so wide her cheeks were starting to hurt as she watched a similarly dopey smile spread over her husband's face. "Yes, in the next four months, we'll be the proud parents to a set of healthy twins." She confirmed.

John couldn't hide his excitement as he carefully picked Mary up and twirled her before setting her back down. Dean returned to the living room to find his parents embracing and laughing like drunks. "Daddy?" he ventured closer curiously.

John turned to look at his son, beaming. "Dean…come here, buddy." Dean ran to his father without hesitation, and John lifted the boy into his arms so they were eye to eye. "Remember what we talked about? You being a big brother?"

Dean nodded excitedly, the gap from his missing tooth showing as he smiled. "Yeah! I wanna have a little brother!"

Mary laughed, rubbing her stomach as she felt the slightest movement. "Well, now you're gonna have two new little siblings to play with!"

Dean cheered, clapping.

 _Four Months Later…_

 **May 2, 1983**

John tapped his foot impatiently, scrubbing his hands over his face as he waited for any news regarding his wife's delivery. He glanced at his son, who was coloring eagerly at a small table in the corner. Several other soon-to-be parents were also waiting in similar states of stress. Normally, he would've been in the delivery room coaching Mary through it. But he couldn't leave Dean alone, and there was no way his young son was ready to see a woman give birth.

He was on the verge of pulling his hair out when a nurse came for him, "Mr. Winchester? You can come back now," he grabbed Dean's hand and followed the nurse through the double doors onto the maternity hall. The faint sound of crying came from no particular direction and there was a long, pained groan as they passed a closed door.

Luckily, it was the third to last door that the nurse led them to. The anxious man hustled his small son into the room, letting out a breath of relief when he saw his tired wife lying on the bed, blond hair limp and damp with perspiration, face looking hollow. He frowned slightly, used to her dimpled smile and twinkling eyes. Mary wearily locked eyes with her husband and smiled. "John," she sighed, "Come here…and meet our babies."

Suddenly, it felt like a great wave of emotion was rushing through his chest as the man walked forward, seeing the doctor who had performed the delivery smiling at him, several nurses standing by, also giving him congratulatory smiles. Dean eyed the two tightly wrapped bundles the nurses held, curiously. "Congratulations, sir." The doctor said to John. "You have a beautiful and healthy baby boy and baby girl."

John's jaw dropped as he accepted one of the bundles the nurse held out to him, staring into the little pink face. They had decided they didn't want to know the genders until the babies arrived, though a small part of John was hoping at least one would be another son. Mary hadn't cared either way, ready to love the new children they were bringing into the world regardless.

"So both, huh?"

Mary nodded, eyes drooping slightly. The nurse handed her the other baby, wrapped in a light pink blanket. "Well, we couldn't decide what we wanted anyway, so this works out, doesn't it?"

John smiled as his new son grabbed at the finger he held out to him. "Yeah, I guess it does…" he kneeled lower so Dean could get a better look at his new little brother. "See Dean, this is your little brother, Samuel Winchester." They had already decided that if they had a boy, he would be named after Mary's father. "Say hi to Sam,"

"Hi, Sam!" Dean waved.

"You're gonna have to look after him for me, ok?"

Dean nodded solemnly, seeming to understand he had a new sense of responsibility. "Okay, Daddy."

Straightening up again, he set baby Sam in the crook of his mother's arms on the opposite side of the sleeping baby girl. He then lifted Dean so he could be closer to her. Mary stroked her daughter's cheek softly. "I can't believe we have three beautiful children now." she said. "But honestly, I don't know what to call her…"

"Something short and simple, that's for sure," John chuckled, thinking of how they all had relatively common names.

"Actually, you know I'd been thinking…from the minute I found out we were having twins, I'd hoped by some miracle one would be a girl. I almost didn't believe it would happen, but I prayed for a little girl, and now here she is…by the grace of God." A thought seemed to strike her then. "Grace… Gracelyn." She nodded to herself. "Her name will be Gracelyn." She saw John opening his mouth to say something and interrupted, "We'll call her Gracie for short." She winked.

"Gracie," John said, trying it out. "I guess that is pretty,"

"Of course it is!"

"Gracie! Gracie!" Dean chanted, looking at his sleeping sister.

John hefted Dean higher into his arms and gave the boy a serious look; Dean immediately turned to give his father his utmost attention. "Dean, you have to look out for Gracie and Sammy from now on. I'm counting on you, bud. And don't forget, if any boys come near your sister, you beat them up, got it?"

Dean gave him a confident thumbs up, "Got it!"

"John!" Mary frowned in protest. "What are you telling him?"

John Winchester grinned sheepishly. "How to look after his little brother and sister."

Sighing with a roll of her eyes, the blond woman settled back on the hospital bed as the full exhaustion of her delivery finally caught up with her and she yawned, "Well, he doesn't need to be pressured…they'll have us there, won't they?"

John smiled tenderly as he watched Mary's eyes flutter shut. Dean looked at his mother, then up at his father. John put a finger to his lips, still smiling, and Dean nodded eagerly.

He nodded at the team who had helped his wife give birth and shook hands with the doctor, balancing Dean on his hip with one hand. As he helped Dean buckle into the Impala, an overwhelming sense of gratitude struck him, and he knew he was truly blessed to have the perfect family that he did.

 _ **November 2, 1983**_

 **Winchester Household**

Mary carried her young son into the babies' nursery, setting him down, "Okay Dean, let's tell the babies goodnight."

The bouncy little boy eagerly ran to one crib, climbing the bars and planting a kiss on the small forehead. "G'night, Sam." He ran to the opposite crib and did the same, "G'night, Gracie."

Mary smiled warmly before kissing both children. "Goodnight, angels."

Dean hopped down and stood beside his mother, studying the small face that was watching the spinning mobile with fascination.

He didn't notice the nursery door open again, "Hey Dean," John greeted, entering the room.

"Daddy!" Dean squealed happily as he ran to his father.

John chuckled, picking up his son and looking between the two cribs. "So what do you think? You think Sam and Gracie are ready to throw a football with you yet? Or maybe play some soccer?"

Dean looked up at his father with big green eyes and shook his head, grinning. "No daddy," he said innocently.

"No," John laughed in agreement.

Mary's heart warmed as she stifled a small yawn.

"Hmm…you got him?" she asked quietly.

John leaned over to kiss his wife's cheek, "Yeah. I got him." he assured her as she made her way to their bedroom. He figured he'd give her a break since she was always so busy with the babies lately.

John hugged his son closer, smiling at the faint cooing noises coming from one of the cribs. He walked to the door, still carrying Dean. "Goodnight Sam, Grace, sweet dreams," he whispered, turning out the lights in the nursery.

The Winchester home settled into a peaceful silence soon after. John had put Dean to bed and gone down to watch some TV while his wife made herself comfortable and drifted off to sleep in their own bedroom.

It wasn't until the early morning hours that crying coming over the baby monitor caused Mary Winchester to stir with a tired moan. She sat up and turned on her bedside lamp, yawning. "John?" she asked softly, only to notice the space beside her was empty.

' _Great…_ ' she thought, lifting herself from under the cozy blankets and shuffling down the hall towards the nursery. When she got there, she noticed a stooped figure leaning over one of the cribs and blinked curiously, trying to let her eyes adjust. "Hey," she called quietly, "Is he hungry?"

"Sssh…" the man told her.

"Okay," Mary stated simply with a tiny shrug. She slowly backed out of the nursery and into the hall. She stopped by Dean's bedroom door only to hear soft breathing. Satisfied that her husband was handling the babies, she was prepared to go back to her bedroom, only to notice the light at the end of the hall flickering.

She approached it slowly, tapping the bulb a few times before the flickering stopped. "Huh," In the stillness, she could hear the faint sound of voices from downstairs and knew John forgot to turn off the TV again. _'Might as well,'_

Her eyelids were slipping shut again, but she was instantly wide awake the moment she noticed John slumped over and asleep in the armchair. Cold terror ran through her veins as she raced back up the stairs. "Gracie! Sammy! Oh God, Sammy! Gracie!" she yelled, nearly stumbling as she reached the top step and practically flew to the nursery.

The shrill scream of his wife had John bolting upright several minutes later, "Mary!" Just as his wife had, he ran up the stairs and burst into the nursery in a panic, panting heavily. The adrenaline started to slowly dissipate as he glanced around the nursery to see the babies lying quietly in their cribs. He sighed, approaching Gracie's crib first and stroking her cheek. She was sleeping peacefully, her chest rising and falling languidly.

John bent to kiss his daughter's cheek before moving on to check on Sam, who was awake and grinning at him. "Hey Sammy," he smiled, stroking his son's soft cheek as well. Sam babbled softly and John was about to step back when he noticed a dark spot suddenly appear on the blanket near Sam's head. John's brow furrowed in confusion and he moved his hand closer to inspect it, only for several more drops to fall on his hand, bigger than the first and an eerie dark red color he could just barely make out.

The dread coiling knots into his stomach again, he glanced up at the nursery ceiling, only to scream in horror as Mary stared back at him, her face ashen white and her stomach slashed open. "Mary!" he screamed, noticing she was still taking shallow breaths. Before he could even comprehend what he was seeing, the ceiling erupted into flames and Mary's figure was devoured in the hungry orange fire. "Mary! Mary, NO!"

It was at this point that Sam began crying in earnest and Gracie woke up whimpering and struggling to breathe through the smoke. Running purely on instinct, John snatched Sam from his crib before getting Gracie and running out into the hall, almost tripping over his eldest child, who was standing in the hall, eyes wide and full of fear. "Daddy?"

John quickly shoved Sam at his older brother, hastily bending down to Dean's height, "Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back," he instructed urgently, "Now! Go, Dean!" Dean barely had time to nod before his father was pushing him toward the stairs. The little boy clumsily ran downstairs with Sam still crying in his arms and the crackling fire and smoke behind him.

Dean had just made it onto the front lawn and was staring blankly up at the nursery window, where the bright orange of the flames was engulfing everything, when John rushed out and grabbed him around the middle, Gracie tucked securely under the other arm as he ran across the grass just as the nursery window shattered and glass rained down from the second story.

By this time, someone had called the fire department and people were gathering on the street and looking at the burning house in shock. Police ushered curious onlookers back behind the yellow tape as firefighters worked to put out the blaze. John Winchester sat with his children on the hood of their car after talking to the police and fire department and being checked over by paramedics. Dean leaned heavily into his side, shivering, with Gracie hugged tight to him.

The baby studied her older brother's face and whined quietly, feeling his sadness, fear and confusion. Dean shushed her as best he could in his own state while John rocked Sam to sleep, a spark burning deep in his eyes. Mary's death wasn't natural. And he silently vowed to himself in that moment that he **would** find out what was _really_ responsible and have his revenge.

* * *

 **I'm in season 6 currently and still learning about the angel's lives in Heaven (if they're ever even fully explained), so for this reason I took some creative liberties in how I described them. For example, I'm envisioning them having slightly more tangible forms in heaven. At the same time I tried to make them purposely vague, 'cause I'm having a hard time picturing it the way the show describes. I know in Supernatural the angels true forms are supposed to be much different and more terrifying then the vessels they take, but in my story, for the purpose of not confusing myself and probably my readers, I'm gonna write it as if angels in heaven appear as we imagine them in the Bible. You know… the whole beautiful (but terrifying) people in flowing white robes deal. lol ;P**

 **And I don't know what her true angel name was, but Ariel is a canon angel, I didn't make her up. I'm sure most of you recognize the only other female angel with a significant role in the show thus far (besides Naomi, who may appear when I know more about her than just what I read on the wikia), so figuring out who she really is shouldn't be too hard.**

 **And also, sorry if anyone's personalities were shot to hell… Like I said, not all the angels have come in yet where I am in the show, so I'm relying on a combination of fanfics and the descriptions of their characters given online to base their interactions in the first part of the story off of. Hopefully by the time they all come in again, I will be more up to speed and everyone will mold true to form. For now, please work with me! And review of course! Just nothing brutal…**

 **Around the time I started this story, I bought season 1 on dvd to help me learn more about the characters. And when the time comes, I will be using select episodes (not every episode) that I feel are most important in advancing the show's plot and exploring the themes I'll be focusing on in this story. They probably will not be tags that retell the episode in verbatim, they'll just cover the events of those episodes, but likely shortened some.**

 **I will have a list of said episodes in case it's been a while for anybody. Also for me to refer back to…**

 **Pilot**

 **Skin**

 **Home**

 **Scarecrow**

 **Faith**

 **Route 666**

 **Nightmare**

 **The Benders**

 **Shadow**

 **Hell House**

 **Something Wicked**

 **Dead Man's Blood**

 **Salvation**

 **Devil's Trap**


	2. Monsters are Real

**Unlike with the original Pilot episode, this story is not gonna skip from the nursery fire to the Winchester's lives twenty-two years later. It'll have plenty of Wee!chesters as well as Teen!chesters before all that. So I hope you don't mind. ;) I'm gonna take the liberty of making up some original hunts for these years although this story will definitely be more about the Winchesters themselves than the hunting, so if you want a story with just the action, and not the feels as well, this may not be for you. Lol If you enjoy both, welcome aboard!**

 **Time skip in this chapter, starting with the Wee!chester saga. :3 I tried to make it as innocent and fluffy as possible without going overboard. Hope it worked. John still isn't a total d-bag yet since it's still pretty early in his hunting career and I'd like to think that he cared at least a little about giving his kids a sense of normalcy in the beginning. Remember to review if you enjoy this and would like to read more, ok? ;P**

* * *

In the weeks and months that followed, Dean noticed a change in John. He was gruff and distant, at times leaving them with his new friends Pastor Jim and Bobby Singer. He carried a small leather-bound book with him everywhere and when Dean would wake up from the same nightmare of their house going up in flames again and again, he would toddle into the study where John usually holed himself up at Bobby's and find him hunched over at the desk, sifting through heavy, old looking books and scribbling furiously in his journal.

Gone was the father that tossed a ball with him in the front yard and gave piggyback rides. John Winchester had become a man obsessed. With what exactly, Dean had yet to discover. He just knew he missed his old dad, and of course he missed his mom.

But he was a big boy, and didn't talk about how much he missed her with his dad, because he knew John was counting on him to be strong. He also knew it would be up to him to tell Sammy and Gracie all about her, since they were too young to remember anything about the mother they'd lost.

It made him sad, and he _did_ allow himself to feel pity for his little brother and sister. They would never know their mom, and they'd have to grow up with this whole new dad. They would never get to see the openly loving father Dean had known for those first four years.

And so time passed for the struggling family of four in this manner. John and his children would stay with friends for a time, or in ratty motels, the man gradually growing more and more preoccupied with whatever it was he was doing. Sometimes, John would take little odd jobs just for some means of income, unloading crates at a factory or even working at a store that sold weapons. But those were few and far in between.

Just after the twins had reached a year, John rented them a small apartment through some acquaintance. He'd told Dean they'd try and stay in the town for a little while. Later Dean wondered if this was his dad's way of apologizing for always shuffling them around or a matter of convenience. He was too distant to notice when the incoherent babbles gradually began to sound more like the tiny utterances of their first words, but Dean did, and was nothing but proud when Sam spoke, then Gracie. He whispered encouraging words as he sat on the living room floor and coaxed the twins into taking their first steps shortly after they learned to stand. John just smiled briefly when he'd told him, ruffled his hair and then kissed each of the children on the head before he was back into research mode.

By the time Dean got old enough to start up elementary school, the twins were two and as active as any other toddlers. Every morning, they would watch Dean leave and lament the loss of their older brother and playmate. Of course he always came back every afternoon around 2:30. But in their young minds, it seemed he'd been gone for years, and he was always greeted with excited squeals and tight hugs when he returned.

Ever enamored with their big brother, the toddlers would sit faithfully at his feet as he did what was called "homework" at the kitchen table, and then put his school things aside and led them to the couch, where they would always watch TV and play before he helped his dad clean the twins up to get them ready for dinner.

John Winchester wasn't much of a cook, but luckily the toddlers hadn't quite entered the picky phase yet, and he normally could convince Dean to eat his food as long as he was granted dessert for clearing his plate. When he didn't feel like making one of the few recipes he knew, they had take-out or ravioli from a can.

It was bedtime that was always the most challenging for the weary father of three. It seemed like just as Dean got old enough to cooperate, the twins got to the age where they would rather try to stay up or run away and hide rather than be tucked in. At least they hadn't gone through the same phase Dean had, hopping straight out of the tub and having John chase them around in their birthday suits. He still didn't know how Mary had always handled that so calmly. She'd been the perfect mother.

No matter if Dean was sticking peas up his nose, running around naked after bath time or had fallen down and hurt himself, she always knew just what to do. As he watched his two younger children getting bigger and more active every day, he wondered if he would be able to properly raise them without Mary, and if she'd approve of the way they'd been living since her death.

He sighed, missing his wife at moments like this more than anything.

"Sammy? Gracie?" he called, looking around the small apartment for his children. They had, yet again, evaded "capture" to escape getting into their cribs. Dean was looking for them in all the small places they liked to hide that John couldn't really reach into. Apparently they were having fun switching it up.

"Hmm…" he glanced around the empty kitchen, slowly making his way to the bottom cabinets. "Guess they're not in here." he said loudly, pretending to walk out. He listened out for any noises, but there was none of the tell-tale laughter that always got them caught when they thought they'd outsmarted their father.

He walked into the small living room and sat down on the ugly sofa that had seen better days. John figured if he pretended he didn't care anymore, the little mice would try sneaking out of their hiding spots. It didn't take long. The muffled giggles came less than five minutes after he'd sat down, followed by a hushed "Ssh!" and more giggling.

He watched a small pajama-clad figure dart out from behind a piece of furniture by the living room entrance, then quickly squat down at the back of a fake potted plant closer to the kitchen. Seconds later, another figure followed, joining the first behind the plant. John quietly turned down the TV and made a show of standing up and stretching as if he was going to retire for the night. "Aah…guess I'll just call it a night."

John saw a small head peek out at him as he passed the plant before it retreated, only to appear beside another head when he appeared distracted. Noiselessly, he whirled around and ensnared both children in his arms to lift them up, where they squirmed and squealed— only slightly disheartened at having been caught.

"Got 'em, Dean!" A young boy rushed into the room to see his dad holding his giggling brother and sister. A slow grin spread across his own face as he watched John lower the twins to the floor, still holding their hands just in case they decided to bolt. "Get these guys ready for bed, will ya? I'll be in there in a minute." Dean obediently took both Sam and Gracie by the hand and they followed him into the bedroom the twins shared.

John made sure all his children had left before he began laying down salt lines around every possible entrance.

In the small nursery, Dean had already set to work, making sure the cribs were prepared. Gracie never slept without her favorite stuffed bunny. Sammy liked to watch his mobile spin before going to sleep. By the time he'd managed to lower one side of Sam's crib and help his litter brother climb in, John was already there lifting a yawning Gracie into her own bed and making sure Petey the rabbit was close at hand.

Despite their earlier reservations about going to bed, it was easy to see how tired they really were when their heads hit the pillow. They snuggled down quietly. John walked over and set Sam's mobile into motion before smiling down at his youngest son. "Goodnight Sammy," he whispered, running a hand through the thick brown hair before placing a kiss on his forehead.

"Night Sam," Dean told his brother.

He walked back to Gracie's crib with Dean trailing after him on his way out the door. "Goodnight Gracie," she smiled happily at him as he leaned down to kiss her forehead, Petey curled into her side.

"Night-night Daddy," she said softly. Then, big gray eyes fell on the boy standing at John's side. "Night-night De,"

Grinning, Dean kissed his sister's forehead before John lifted the side of the crib back in place. "G'night Gracie,"

As the nursery fell into a comfortable silence, John flipped the light out on his children and took Dean to the room right next door to tuck him in.

As he went about pushing in the corners of the blankets, half-listening to Dean talk about wanting pie in his lunchbox instead of a pudding cup tomorrow, John wondered how much longer the innocence of his children could possibly last. He knew they would eventually come to discover what he really did, and that he'd have to train them for their own safety. The only question was if it was the right thing to do. Suddenly an image of Mary flashed through his mind, and he knew it didn't really matter if it was right. He didn't have a choice.

* * *

"Psst…are you awake?" Gracie whined quietly as someone shook her urgently, "C'mon Gracie! Wake up! Wake up!" Her watery eyes fluttered open, only to see the smiling face of her twin brother as he hovered over her.

"Sammy?" she whispered, sitting up. "Whatsa matter?" The heel of her palm carefully rubbed at the crust caked in the corner of her eye as she struggled to remain conscious.

She heard Sam huff as he shuffled back, placing his hands on his hip. He didn't look very intimidating with his mop of bed hair and Power Ranger footie pajamas. "Nuffin's wrong! Don't you know what today is?" Gracie's eyes came into focus just in time to see Sam giving her the patented puppy dog look that he'd already perfected. She shook her head slowly.

Sam blinked, shocked, before throwing his arms into the air with disbelief. "It's our _birfday_!" he exclaimed; the recent loss of his baby tooth making his words slur a little. He didn't give her a chance to ask any more questions as he tugged her out of bed, practically running for the open bedroom door.

"Wait Sammy!" she wailed, bracing one hand on the wall as her twin continued pulling her down the stairs of Uncle Bobby's house. "I gotta go pee!"

Sam ignored her, running through the house the way Bobby had told them _not_ to do a dozen times and skidding into the kitchen. Gracie clumsily fell into him, unable to stop in time. "'Kay Dean, I got Gracie! Time to eat now!" she heard her brother cheer as he climbed into his chair at what passed for the kitchen table. An older man in a baseball cap stood at the stove, carefully prodding flapjacks sizzling in a pan.

He turned around to scold Sam for shouting and saw an adorably ruffled looking Gracie Winchester. She stood with her bright orange hair mussed from sleep and one cheek bearing the impression the pillow had left, wearing her favorite green footie PJ's. A small smile wormed its way onto his stern face. "Morning Grace. Sleep well?"

She gave him a petulant stare with her large gray eyes, so light they could almost pass as silver. "Uh-huh," she nodded. "I dreamed 'bout angels." she told him calmly.

Bobby raised an eyebrow in interest. "Angels, huh?"

Dean crinkled his nose disdainfully.

"Yep," Grace replied.

Dean wanted to instantly tear down that blind faith, but he knew doing so would also shatter the naiveté he and John had been careful to preserve in the twins for just a little while longer. Ever since he'd lost his mom, innocent thoughts of benevolent winged beings that helped people through hard times in their lives just didn't seem plausible.

He knew what was out there, or at least had a good idea. Knew he couldn't allow Sam or Grace to know what Dad _really_ did, because he wanted to be there to tell them himself, when the time came. So he generally discouraged any talk of creatures that could be considered in any way supernatural, even if they were supposedly good.

Having sensed his disbelief, Gracie looked up through a mussed fringe of rich red hair to see her older brother grinning down at her. He leaned against the kitchen counter casually and was already dressed. Gracie tilted her head like a curious little bird.

Huh. Her older brother was usually harder to wake up than she was! He always swatted Sam away when he would bounce over to give him a good jab in the mornings, retreating back under the blankets, unless they were packing up to get back on the road again; then he would sluggishly follow their dad to throw things in the trunk of the car.

Dean laughed at the lost lamb look she wore. It was obvious the poor kid had literally been yanked from bed without any explanation. "Hey squirt, finally up, huh?"

"Dean," she mumbled sleepily, lifting her arms. Getting the message, Dean picked her up with little effort and sat her on the counter. He watched her flushed cheeks poke out as she yawned, smacking her dry lips as she studied him with big gray eyes. "Sammy's nuts." she said.

Dean cracked a wide grin, ruffling her already messy hair as Sam shouted in protest from the table. "Am not! You were gonna miss breakfast. Dean tol' me to wake you up." he pouted.

"That's right kiddo," Dean agreed, "How could I let you sleep through your big day? You're turning six! That's a big number, ya know. You need to use a whole other hand to count to it."

Testing this, the little redhead brought both hands to eye level, palms up, and wiggled each finger as she counted. "…four…five…six…!" she finished, gasping.

Gracie seemed shocked at this revelation, her mouth falling open as she smacked both hands to her cheeks.

"You're right! I'm gettin' old Dean!" Sam looked up from where he was eying Bobby with heavy anticipation, watching him plate the pancakes.

Suddenly his own hazel eyes widened and he seemed a bit perturbed. "Does…does that mean I'm old now too?"

"Nah," Dean reassured. "Six is just old enough to be a big deal. 'S not something you freak over." Seeing that the twins still looked uneasy, he sighed dramatically. "Wait 'til you hit ten, now _that's_ old."

Gracie hugged his arm sympathetically. "S'kay if you're ol' Dean…I still love you." Dean hugged her around the shoulders.

"Thanks," he smiled. Watching as Bobby set the plate of pancakes down on the table, he picked Gracie up and put her in her own spot, between himself and Sam, rushing to be seated himself. "But you know who's really ancient?" he added conspiratorially, leaning in with a stage whisper. The kids listened with rapt attention. "Bobby's even older than Dad. He's almost old enough to be—"

"Hey, you better watch yer mouth boy." The man snapped.

"—our uncle," Dean finished innocently.

"Hmph," Bobby eyed Dean before roughly slapping a stack of flapjacks down on his plate. The eldest Winchester child was already reaching for the syrup and smothering his pancakes with sticky sweetness before Bobby had finished taking the spatula away. Bobby rolled his eyes. Damn kids ate like John was starvin' 'em. But maybe it was just a thing with growing kids? Not like he'd know…babysitting the Winchester brood was about as close as the hunter had ever got to kids of his own.

Suddenly, Gracie lifted her face up, food still half-chewed, "Is Daddy gonna be here soon?" she asked innocently. Bobby froze, sharing a slightly panicked look with Dean. Sam also paused to look up at them expectantly at the mention of their father.

"Balls," Bobby muttered under his breath. He rubbed a hand over his face tiredly, not sure what to say. He knew the right thing to do would have been to tell them the truth. John had called earlier that morning before the kids were up to get some help with research on the rugaroo he was hunting, and Bobby had asked when he thought he'd be back before they hung up.

John admitted he didn't think he was close enough to ending the hunt to promise he'd be done any sooner than a few days, and acknowledged his kids would probably be disappointed. Bobby promised to do what he could and John had thanked him before hanging up the phone.

He thought that when it came time to tell the kids, he'd be able to think of something on the spot. Something that would be the most pain-free option possible for everyone. But when he saw their eager little faces and how much having their dad there with them meant, he knew no matter how he tried to explain it, it was going to hurt them.

"Well ya see..." Bobby started.

"He's on the way." Dean jumped in. Bobby tried hard not to gape at the older boy, who calmly told his siblings a lie he couldn't possibly believe to be true. Dean knew better; he knew what John did and that he most likely wouldn't be back in time. So he also had to know that when Sam and Grace figured it out, it'd be even worse then them knowing he wasn't coming to begin with.

"Dean," Bobby whispered urgently.

"Trust me Bobby, it's better this way." he whispered back. Dean turned back to his younger siblings, who were hanging on every word and continued, "Yeah, he already called Bobby and said he'd be here later. You know how Dad is. We should go ahead and have fun til he gets here."

Gracie still looked a little disappointment they weren't waiting for their father to celebrate, so Dean added, "Don't worry, he'll understand." He patted her head affectionately, turning to Bobby. "We've got a full day anyway, right Bobby?"

Bobby knew this was the part where he was supposed to play along, so he nodded reluctantly. "Right. We're uh, gonna have plenty of fun while we wait for your daddy..."

The twins cheered and Dean grinned triumphantly.

"So what do ya wanna do today?" Bobby asked the twins. "Special day, after all. Only turn six, once. Now you kids got some idea of how you're gonna spend the day?" Bobby chuckled as he watched their sticky little faces light up. He had a feeling John wasn't exactly the Disney World type and the kids probably hadn't ever had a real birthday party. Maybe Dean, but not the twins. The least he could do was show them one year where they got to celebrate like normal kids.

Sam and Gracie traded excited looks, yelling at the same time.

"Park!"

"Zoo!"

Confused that they hadn't said the same thing, the twins stared at each other, both looking troubled.

"I wanna swing! Don't you like swings, Sammy?" Gracie pouted.

"Yeah, but I wanna see a zoo for real, not just on TV." Sam argued.

Dean arched a brow as they both started sulking. It wasn't that often that the twins didn't agree on something. They got along better than most siblings, whether it was because they were the same age or some special twin thing, Dean couldn't say. But he did know that when they did get into it, there was usually a temper tantrum that followed.

Anticipating the inevitable water works, he quickly stepped in with a solution. "Hey, why don't you guys just settle it the fair way? Rock-paper-scissors, okay? Whoever gets two out of three, wins, and no matter who wins, nobody's gonna cry, got it?"

Bobby was surprised when the twins slowly nodded. "Okay," they said in unison. He had to admit, he was impressed. Dean really did know how to handle his little brother and sister.

The hunter watched the kids have their little contest and after Sam won and Gracie held up her end of the bargain by not complaining, it was decided that they were headed to the zoo. Dean told them to go get ready and hey shot back upstairs like little missiles. They were back downstairs, washed and dressed in record time.

Bobby and the three kids piled into one of his rusty old clunkers and started down the road with Sam yammering on excitedly in the backseat. Gracie seemed to have completely gotten over her disappointment and was even cheering about getting to see the "aminals". Dean rolled his eyes but Bobby had a feeling that he was excited too and just better at hiding it if the grin was anything to go by.

By the time they pulled up and got out of the car, the twins were practically dragging him through the front gates. The Great Plains Zoo was probably the pride of Sioux Falls, considering how rural it was. Bobby had almost forgotten all about the zoo, since he didn't have kids of his own and hunting took up almost all his time. But now he was glad it was here as he watched the kids' faces light up when they got to the first habitat.

Even Dean seemed to be enjoying himself and acting like a normal kid for a change. With the kids having so much fun time seemed to fly by, and before Bobby knew it he realized they'd been there for almost five hours. He decided it was time to head back, as much as he hated for it to end. Stupidly assuming they'd be ready to drop (like he was) when they got back, Bobby was surprised when Gracie got out of the car with Sam right behind her, running over to play with Maximus.

"Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on 'em." Dean promised, coming up to stand beside him. The bearded man nodded gratefully as he trudged up the rickety steps back into the house to get dinner going. Maybe he had underestimated just how much it took to wear kids out.

He watched through the kitchen window as Gracie tried to get Max to shake hands while Sam and Dean watched. He was surprised the mean old son of a bitch had taken to the kids like he had. He had taken to keeping junkyard dogs since he'd started hunting to help guard the property, and Max was good at keeping anybody that came sniffing around at bay.

He didn't like strangers and Bobby had a feeling that he was only tolerated because he kept him fed. So he was surprised when the grumpy mutt didn't snap Sam's hand off when the little boy had gone running over to pet him the first time he'd met the dog. In fact he'd actually licked his hand. After Sam had been scolded by John about how dangerous it was to run up to a dog he didn't know, Bobby had decided that if Maximus liked the kids and wasn't going to try to take a bite out of them, it was okay if they played with him once in a while.

If he didn't know any better Bobby would say Max almost seemed happy when the kids were over. He watched Gracie kiss the dog's nose and smiled.

Later that night, after the kids had been fed and put to bed, Dean went to check up on his brother and sister in the bedroom they were sharing across the hall from his. They had tried to stay up, still waiting for John, but in the end sleep had won over Gracie and she was fast asleep. When Dean got closer to pull the covers back onto the bed, he found Sam staring up at him with half-lidded eyes. "Dean," he heard his little brother mumble, voice full of exhaustion.

"Yeah, Sammy?" he hummed, pulling the covers over the both of them.

"Daddy's not coming, is he?"

Dean stared at his brother for a long minute. He could barely see him pouting in the dark, big eyes begging him to tell the truth. "No Sam, he's not coming." he finally sighed, sitting in a chair by the bed. "But what did you want me to tell you, huh? If I told you the truth, you'd be sad all day, right?"

"Yeah," Sam answered, slightly more alert now.

"See? But instead we got to go to the zoo and you had a lot of fun, didn't you?"

Sam nodded quietly.

"Thought so," Dean said. "Get some sleep. Night Sam." he stood up and Sam watched his brother carefully tiptoe out of the dark room. He stayed awake for a while, just thinking about why his dad hadn't come and if he forgot. But he was tired and his thoughts eventually gave way to a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

A few days later John came back for the kids and they said goodbye to Bobby as the family got back on the road. Of course their dad apologized for missing their birthday and promised to make it up to them, but he noticed that they weren't sulking nearly as much as he had expected. Especially Sam, who would normally stare at him with the eyes of a wounded dog. Whatever Bobby did to appease them had obviously worked. Chalk it up as another one on a long list of favors he owed the older man.

John glanced in the rearview mirror to see Grace had fallen asleep and Sam was quietly staring out the window. Dean was humming along to the classic rock playing on the radio. John was so lost in his thoughts, he hardly heard Dean ask where they were headed this time.

"Fort Douglas, Wisconsin," he replied. Dean nodded and didn't ask anything else.

By the time they arrived and checked into a motel, it was getting late, so John brought them some food from a nearby diner then sent them to bed. Of course Dean knew that his father would probably be up for a while, sitting up and looking over the journal he never saw his dad without these days. That left him in charge of his little brother and sister. He made sure they washed up and got settled in for bed. Gracie wanted John to come kiss them goodnight, but Dean explained he was busy and did it in his place.

He tried to ignore the sad faces every time he told them Dad was too busy for them. When he got back out to the little living room area where John was camping out he watched from the doorway to the bedroom as their dad looked at the circled article he'd found in the paper again. Dean didn't know what was so suspicious about a bunch of little kids going into a coma that drew John's attention, besides the fact that it was just sad. But if John thought there was something wrong here, then there probably was. Dad knew his stuff.

Morning rolled around for Dean after a long night with little sleep. He found himself looking down at some of the pictures John had apparently gone down to the police station to "borrow" before he'd woken up. A black handprint with long, creepy fingers pressed into a window ledge. John came into the room with his sawed off and gave Dean the usual instructions of what to do while he was gone. They always ended the same way too.

"Most importantly..."

"Watch out for Sammy and Gracie, I know." Dean finished.

John looked satisfied, patting his son on the shoulder with a small smile. "That's my man," Dean knew that was as close as he was getting to a "goodbye" as he walked John out the door and locked it behind him.

He turned around to see Sam and Grace sitting in a ratty old armchair watching cartoons. He figured they'd be okay like that for a while. At least until they got hungry again. Dean flopped onto the couch with a comic book he'd nicked from the last library they'd been to.

~SPN~

Grace watched Dean pour two glasses of milk, scooting one in front of her and the other in front of Sam. He turned around and got the pot of spaghettio's off the stove, putting half in her bowl and half in Sam's. "When's Daddy gonna get back?" Sam asked suddenly.

"Tomorrow," Dean responded, sounding tired.

"When?" Sam asked.

"I dunno, but he usually comes in late. Now, eat your dinner, both of you." Gracie picked up her spoon, but Sam pushed his bowl away with a frown.

"But I'm sick of scabettio's."

"Well, you're the one who wanted 'em." Gracie could tell Dean was getting frustrated. He always did when she or Sam was being difficult. She could actually _feel_ it. So she tried not to make Dean upset.

"I want Lucky Charms." Sam said.

Gracie silently put her spoon to her mouth and swallowed. It felt lumpy the whole way down. She was tired of eating the same thing too. She didn't even like spaghettio's, but it was Sam's turn to pick the last time they went to the store, so they were having spaghettio's.

"There's no more Lucky Charms." Dean told him.

"I saw the box," Sam argued. Gracie wished her twin would just eat his dinner. She knew Sam was being what Dean called "bratty".

Dean turned around with a glare. "Okay, so maybe there is, but there's only enough left for one bowl and I haven't had any yet." Sam gave Dean one of his patented puppy-eyed stares and Dean wordlessly took Sam's bowl of now-cold spaghettio's back. Grace shrunk back, _feeling_ the annoyance becoming anger.

After emptying the cold noodles into the garbage can and putting the dirty bowl in the sink, Dean slammed a clean bowl and the box of cereal down in front of their brother. Gracie watched Sam put his hand in the box and fish around before pulling something out and offering it to Dean. "Want the prize?" he asked, all innocence now.

Dean's mouth formed a thin line, like he was stopping himself from saying what he wanted to, but he accepted Sam's peace offering.

* * *

After the fight it was quiet the next day, more cartoons and hanging around in the motel room. Sam didn't complain when they ate canned ravioli for dinner and Gracie was happy as long as her brothers were okay, and not fighting. Dean put them to bed on the uncomfortable mattress, under the thin sheets, and despite the fact that she didn't feel tired, the minute her head hit the pillow Grace was out like a light.

Dean went back to the front of the motel room, watching TV and trying to kill his boredom. After over an hour of restlessly watching the screen he decided to get some air. He peeked in on his brother and sister one more time to be sure and found them both fast asleep. That was his cue. Dean quietly snuck out of the hotel room and locked the door. The little diner near the motel that John had bought dinner from had a couple of old arcade machines in the corner.

He lost track of time just pinging away, letting loose all his frustrations on the pixelated little creatures he was destroying. When he looked up again, the restaurant's owner was telling him they were closing. So he reluctantly made the short trip back to the motel room, digging his room key from his pocket and pushing open the door slowly so he didn't wake up the twins.

But the minute he stepped in the room he could tell there was something wrong. Maybe it was what his dad called "hunter's intuition" but he could just feel it. Careful not to make any extra noise, he crept to the bedroom his brother and sister shared, noticing the strange glow through the crack in the door.

Dean picked up the sawed off propped up near the door, his eyes wide in shock as he saw some hooded monster hovering over Sam's limp body, its mouth wide open and an eerie white light spilling out. The monster raised its head at his presence and hissed, baring long, wicked teeth at him. Dean shakily raised the gun and took aim, but no matter how much he told himself to pull the trigger he couldn't make his body cooperate.

He was still fumbling with the gun when the door was slammed open and John burst in, yelling at him to get out of the way. Dean scrambled for cover as his father took out his own gun and shot the creature without hesitation. It recoiled, but it seemed more angry than hurt.

John kept advancing on it, shooting round after round into it with every step. Backed into a corner and clearly unable to finish whatever it had been doing to Sam, the monster leapt through the window and John fired after it until he'd emptied the whole clip and the threat was gone. He marched back to the bed and started shaking his son, "Sammy! Sammy! Sammy, are you alright?" Sam stirred, clearly confused to wake up in his dad's arms. "Are you okay?"

"Dad, what's going on?" Sam demanded sleepily. John heaved a sigh of relief, hugging his boy close before pulling back the covers. His heart almost stopped beating when he noticed the empty spot where his daughter would normally be. "Where's your sister?"

Sam rubbed his eye, patting blindly at the empty spot. "Gracie?"

John sat Sam back down, brushing by Dean as he searched the room. "Gracie? Grace, where are you? Gracie!" When no little voice answered back, John felt his panic start to rise. What if that damned thing took Grace somehow? What would Mary say if he lost one of their children to a monster?

"Dean, go and check the-"

"Daddy?" John whirled around when he heard the thin voice and saw the mop of messy red hair as Gracie poked her head out of the bathroom.

"Oh thank God," he rushed over, wrapping his daughter in a tight hug and burying his face in her hair. It had been a long time since he'd felt that much fear. He didn't know what he'd do if he lost anymore family.

Gracie wiggled around in his arms, touching his face with her tiny hands. "Daddy, what's wrong?" she whispered, her eyes getting watery. She felt everything. The fear, the relief, the anger...

"Nothing's wrong, baby. I'm just glad you're safe." he mumbled into her hair.

She craned her neck and put her arms around his, hugging him as hard as she could. Gracie didn't tell him the truth, something stopped her. She didn't know why, but she couldn't tell them what she saw. She didn't even know what it was, she just knew she'd been coming out of the bathroom and saw that thing drag Sammy out from over the covers and on top of the bed. Gracie wanted to scream for Dean, but she didn't see him anywhere and she was scared.

She wanted to help Sammy, but she didn't know how. So she ran and hid in the bathroom, staying crouched behind the dirty toilet, shaking and trying not to cry. Then she heard loud bangs and Daddy's voice calling her. Now he was holding her tight, and she felt safe again. She just hoped Sammy was safe too.

Dean came slinking around the corner, fidgeting nervously. John turned to his oldest son, "What happened?" he asked sharply.

Dean flinched, "I...I just went out for a minute."

John's voice dropped dangerously low as he stared at Dean with cold eyes. "What?"

"J-Just for a second. I'm sorry," Dean stuttered, dropping his head.

"I told you not to leave this room." John barked, "I _told_ you not to let them out of your sight!"

Grace wanted to tell her daddy that it wasn't Dean's fault, not to be mad at him, but he just held her tight for a little while longer and she didn't speak up. Then he stood up and started moving around the room, grabbing a duffel bag and throwing things in it. "Dad...?" Dean asked timidly.

"Go help your brother and sister get packed, Dean." John didn't even turn around. He stood there, facing away from them and ran his hands through his hair with a heavy sigh. Dean swallowed thickly as he grabbed his sister by the arm and dragged her back into the bedroom. He took both her duffle and Sam's and put the few things they had in them. Sam was awake, watching curiously. Gracie climbed onto the bed and gently put Petey the rabbit on top of the clothes in her bag. Dean nodded at her in thanks and zipped it up.

"What's goin' on, Dean?" Sam yawned, blinking.

"We're leaving Sammy, come on." he picked Sam up and set him down on the floor.

That same night, the Winchesters drove three hours away to one of John's friends, a nice man named Pastor Jim. John talked to him for a while, and then told the kids to behave before getting back on the road. Gracie listened to the rumble of the Impala fading from one of Pastor Jim's guest rooms and she knew where her daddy was going. To get the monster that tried to hurt Sam. She spent the rest of the night awake, replaying what she'd seen in her mind.

Monsters were real...they were scary and they would eat you if they could.

In that one moment the safety she'd felt cocooning her felt like it broke, and she was exposed to a scary world filled with monsters. Now that she knew the truth, her mind was already working subconsciously to reconstruct her view of reality. She didn't know it in that moment, but the encounter had started her down a road that would change the rest of her life.

* * *

 **Well that's a wrap on ch.2~ I thought about keeping Sam and Gracie toddlers for a few chapters but decided I could work with them better as kids. So it'll be Wee!chesters for a while. It's really fun filling in some of the holes of their childhood since flashbacks usually skip ahead by a few years at a time. Obviously this story is gonna be kind of a slow-burn here for a while. If you enjoyed this chapter and want to read more, PLEASE remember to review, okay? I can't know how I'm doing if I don't have any feedback. Other than that, I can't wait to write more!**


	3. Keeping Secrets

**Well what can I say? Other than I have really, really been bitten by the writing bug for this story. I had switched over to my new computer, and to be honest, even though it's no longer in its prime I've missed working with old reliable to an extent. Well, after discovering that I have to buy all the new Microsoft programs on my new laptop (and realizing I don't get paid anytime soon), I've switched back over to this computer so I could keep typing in the meantime. Yay!**

 **I really enjoy coming up with these chapters and seeing what direction the story will take me in next~ Writing the childhood years is fun for me but I also can't wait to start writing the more pivotal moments later on down the road. I've pre-written a lot of chapters that I feel are important milestones in the Winchesters lives, and I can't wait to share~ In the meantime, we have this! As always, if you'd be so kind as to review to give me feedback after you read it I'd really appreciate it. I'd love to know how everyone thinks the Winchesters are developing so far. Trying to keep them in character (or what I feel would be in character for them at the time).**

 **P.S. I honestly don't see it as a big deal, but for whatever reason, apparently spankings warrant some kind of warning since I guess maybe it triggers some people? Anyway, there is mention/threats to spank a minor in this chapter, and there maybe actual non-sexual spanking of a minor in the future. Just as a head's up.**

* * *

Gracie stared down at her food, dipping a french fry in ketchup, then honey mustard and using the sauces to make a pattern on her plate. She peeked around through her messy bangs, afraid she'd get scolded for playing with her food. Her brothers were munching away and John had a newspaper in front of him and a hot cup of coffee in one hand, his own burger only half-eaten.

Normally she'd be chomping down on her own food the way her brothers were, but when she nibbled on the edge of the grilled cheese sandwich and swallowed, it went down feeling cold and lumpy. She used to love grilled cheese sandwiches…and french fries. But she couldn't find her appetite lately.

Not since she saw the monster two weeks ago. The more time passed, the more scared she got. When Daddy left them now, Dean was extra careful to watch them like he was supposed to. Sam had no clue why.

He didn't even remember the monster because he was asleep the whole time, but _she_ knew. It was hard to sleep when there was a chance the boogie-man could really get her. That's why sometimes, even when she got to have a bed all to herself and Sam and Dean had to share, she crawled in with them. Being close to them made her feel better.

Dean petted her hair until she went to sleep and as long as he was there, she could be safe. But even with Dean around she still had nightmares that made her wake up and cry. She'd dreamed the same monster ate Sam before Daddy got home. Sometimes she'd dream a different monster got Daddy and even Dean. She always woke up when she got to the part of the dream where the monster was about to eat _her_.

Dean sat with her, holding her and rocking her like a baby until she stopped. Then he helped her get back under the covers and held her tight. She tried not to be loud, especially because big girls weren't supposed to cry at all. But sometimes she woke Sam up and he crawled over while Dean rocked her to play with her hair. The gentle tugs and the little fingers running through her tangled strands was something Grace had started to find comforting. At least she still had her brothers when Daddy wasn't around.

Her head lifted at the sound of Dean's voice and she shook off the bad memories. They were far away now, in a whole other state called New Hampshire.

"Hey Dad, I'm done. Can I order dessert now?" John glanced up from his paper and looked at his son's clean plate before grunting his consent.

"Hey, I want dessert too!" Sam piped up.

"Eat your green beans first, Sam." John said; already back to circling things from the article he was reading. Sam pouted, looking ready to protest.

Dean looked over at his sister and noticed she'd barely touched her food. "Hey Gracie, come on, eat up or you can't have dessert." he told her. His freckled face broke into a wide grin. "They have, like, five kinds of pie!"

Gracie gave him a woeful look from under her mop of red hair, pulled into two messy buns. "I don't like pie…" she mumbled.

Dean's mouth fell open in alarm. "W-what? How could you not like pie?!" he almost screeched. John gave him a warning look and he ducked his head, lowering his voice back to normal. "You liked it two weeks ago!" he finished.

Sam, more interested in the conversation than finishing his vegetables, perked up. " _I_ still like pie!" he said hopefully.

"Finish your food, Sammy." Dean snapped. He turned back to his sister, incredulously. "So when did you start turning down pie?"

"It gave me a bad tummy-ache." Gracie explained meekly. It was mostly true. She and Dean had split a whole pie when John was gone and Sam was taking a nap, and before she knew it, her belly was stuffed full of cherry pie and she felt sick. She'd sworn off pie since that day.

"That's no reason to give up on the best food that ever existed!" Dean sputtered.

"Leave your sister alone, Dean." John said after finishing his burger. "It's not exactly a major food group, son. I swear you only eat dinner so you can get to dessert."

Dean looked slightly embarrassed, but it was forgotten the minute the waitress came by to refill their drinks, and he eagerly ordered a slice of Boston cream pie. "Sure you're not gonna change your mind about boycotting pie?" Dean whispered to a quiet Grace. She shook her head slowly.

"No…"

Dean shrugged. "Suit yourself. More for me."

"I'm finished!" Sam interrupted. "Can I get dessert now?" The waitress looked at John expectantly, and he sighed, nodding a silent okay.

"What'll it be, sweetie?"

Sam grinned brightly. "Cookies!"

"Chocolate chip okay?"

Sam quickly nodded and the waitress jotted it down. She turned to the last child in the booth, a little redhead, slouched in her seat and playing with her food in boredom. "Nothing for you, dear?"

John looked over at his daughter's plate for the first time. "Grace, do we play in our food?"

Gracie shook her head, knowing dessert was the least of her worries. "No, Daddy."

John turned to the expectant waitress. "That's all." he grunted.

She gave Gracie a sympathetic look before trotting off. John turned back to his daughter with a stern face. "Finish your food. All of it."

Sam and Dean looked on anxiously, the excitement of dessert temporarily forgotten. It was one of Dad's rules that everyone cleaned their plates. And all of Dad's rules were supposed to be followed.

Gracie stared down at her now cold food, her bottom lip trembling.

"Now, Grace." John snapped impatiently. He crossed his arms and watched as she slowly picked up a barely touched grilled cheese sandwich in her tiny hands, and bit into it. She looked up at him through her lashes.

"Daddy, I'm not hungry…"

John wasn't amused. "You know the rules, Gracie. You eat what's on your plate." Her eyes started to moisten and she raised a fist to quickly stamp out the tears before timidly biting into a fry. John watched her like a hawk as she finished off the sandwich and nibbled the fries before taking a long sip of juice.

By the time she had almost cleared her plate, the waitress was back with Dean's pie and Sam's cookies, setting them down with a smile. She gave the little girl another glance; she looked positively miserable. Poor kid. The dad looked like a real no-nonsense kind of guy. Probably military.

John leaned forward, voice low, until he was eye level with his daughter. "The next time you decide to show your butt, I'll spank it red. Only warning. Do you understand?"

Gracie coughed around a mouthful of half-chewed food, struggling to get it down. John watched her wash it down with juice and then nod silently at him.

"I asked you if you understood."

"Y-Yes, sir." she answered meekly.

Satisfied, John turned to his sons. "You boys have ten minutes. We're behind schedule right now." He gave Gracie one last disapproving look and then turned back to his newspaper. Sam and Dean traded looks but didn't say anything.

John was too busy skimming the article for any details he might've missed to notice Sam slipping Gracie a cookie under the table. She smiled gratefully and quietly ate it while their dad was distracted.

* * *

The Impala stopped in front of their motel of the week, and as usual, John got out first and headed for the lobby to check them in. Dean got out next, grabbing his bag from the floor and then handing Sam and Gracie theirs.

Sam hopped out the minute his brother handed him his things, but Gracie took her time, almost looking like she didn't want to leave the car. Dean couldn't really say he blamed her.

She was probably still pouting because she got in trouble. Dad was dead serious about the spanking, and Dean knew the only reason why he even issued a warning was because it was Gracie, who hardly ever did anything to get spanked for.

As if John Winchester had a psychic streak, Dean looked up and saw his Dad coming out of the front office, holding up a room key. When he got close enough, he tossed the key to Dean and then got back in the car. "Room B12 around the corner. Take them and get settled in. Be there after I check something out."

"Yes, sir." Dean obediently followed John's directions straight to the door of their new motel room, his younger siblings trailing behind him.

"Here we go, room sweet room," Dean announced, putting the key in the lock and letting them in. The three Winchesters stepped into the dark room and Dean flicked on the light. The kids immediately started inspecting everything, from the slightly chipping wallpaper to the faded sheets.

"Well at least it doesn't smell funny in here…" Dean muttered, setting his bag down.

"I call this bed!" Sam yelled, running past his brother and flopping on the bed by the wall.

Dean scoffed. "Uh, I don't think so. I'm the oldest, so I get the bed. Plus, you got the bed to yourself in the last room. Me and Gracie had to bunk together on the pull-out couch."

Sam pouted, ready to protest when John walked in. he quickly slung his duffel on the bed closest to the door and looked at his children. "Okay, here's the deal. In another day or so you're all going to start going to school."

Sam stood up and cheered, forgetting all about the beds. He'd wanted to go to school since he was old enough to understand what it was. Dean groaned, flopping backwards on the nearest bed.

"I'll round up everything you'll need." John continued. "Get everything in order." He looked at his oldest. "Dean, you know the drill. You're in charge while I'm gone."

"Yes, sir." Dean nodded.

John glanced at his daughter, who hadn't said a word since they left the diner. She'd been acting a little strange lately, but for all he knew she was just sulking about the warning he'd given her back at the diner.

She'd shake it off soon. It never lasted long with her.

The minute John closed the door and Dean made sure it was securely locked and the "do not disturb" sign was up, he turned around in time to see Sam happily fling himself back onto the bed closest to wall. Gracie sat down on the edge of the bed she knew she'd have to share, clearly tuning everything out.

"Sam, go wash up."

Sam looked up, brows arched in confusion. "Wha—how come? It's still early…"

Dean narrowed his eyes, scoffing. "I don't care. Don't give me any of that pouting crap either; just go do it." He chucked a pillow at his brother, hitting Sam in the side of the head.

Sam whirled around, rubbing his head dramatically. "Hey!" he yelled in protest. "I'm telling Dad you were picking on me!"

"Go ahead!" Dean challenged. "We'll see how _that_ goes. I'll just tell him you were being a total brat—again."

Sam stomped over to his bag, digging out a clean pair of pajamas and his toothbrush. Dean watched in clear amusement as his little brother stuck his tongue out in defiance before marching into the bathroom and slamming the door.

"What a little twerp."

He turned back to Gracie, who had been watching the exchange silently. Normally, she'd be laughing at them if the argument was silly enough or playing referee and reminding them not to fight when it got serious, but she was just staring off into space with dull eyes. Dean frowned.

"Hey, Gracie…" He watched her slowly come back to herself, staring up at him blankly.

Dean looked down at her, "What's been goin' on with you lately? First, you start getting all picky and playing with your food, then you say crazy stuff about not liking pie anymore. _Pie_ , _Gracie_! Now you're gonna get all moody on me and give me the silent treatment?"

Dean flopped down beside her on the bed, staring straight into those big, doe eyes that were usually so bright. "You mad at me or somethin'?"

"No," she whispered, trying to avoid eye contact. Dean redirected her gaze by turning her face back to look at him. "Well, did Sam do something to make you mad? 'Cause we both know he's a _total_ pain in the butt."

"Sammy didn't make me mad…"

"Are you mad at Dad then? I know it seemed like he was being mean back there, but you gotta eat Gracie. You can't just waste food; you know the rules."

"I'm not mad at Daddy, Dean." She said earnestly. Dean looked into those open gray eyes and knew she was telling the truth. Gracie was never the kind of kid to hold grudges, anyway.

"Okay so…are you sick? Is that why you haven't wanted to eat?"

" 'M not sick..."

"Then what's your deal?"

Grace knew it was the moment of truth. She could tell Dean everything about what she saw, but then he might tell Daddy and she'd be in trouble…or she could keep pretending nothing was wrong even when it hurt so much inside. She had always told her family everything. There was never a reason not to. Until now.

"I…I dreamed 'bout somethin' scary…" she finally confessed. It wasn't a lie. Lies were bad.

Dean let out a deep breath, "Like what?"

"Um," Gracie bit her lip, pausing again. "M-Monster…ate me up."

"Does the nightmare happen a lot?" A slow nod of admission.

"All this time?" Another nod.

Dean wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. He smiled reassuringly, his thumb rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. "Monsters aren't real, Gracie. C'mon, don't be dumb."

Gracie wanted to protest. Monsters _were_ real. She _saw_ one. And she thought Dean saw it too. But maybe he didn't…so he probably wouldn't believe her.

"B-But it was scary, Dean. It ate you too, and Daddy, and Sam…" That was true too. More than anything, she was afraid of a monster getting her family.

Dean shook his head, holding her tight by the shoulders and looking directly into her eyes. "Look, I get that you were scared, but I'm here now. Sam and Dad are fine. No monsters."

She still wasn't convinced. But she had always trusted in Dean. He was her big brother and protector.

"Okay, new rule— right here, right now. First off, no more secrets, got it?" Gracie hesitated briefly before nodding in understanding. "I'm your big brother and if something's scary you gotta tell me so I can help. That's how it works. That's what family's for."

Gracie couldn't help the relieved smile that slowly broke out on her face. It felt good not to have to keep that in anymore. She didn't tell dean everything, but it was enough to clear her mind more than it had been in weeks.

"Okay, Dean."

His green eyes instantly brightened. He really had been worried when his sister started acting off. It was almost like she _had_ seen the monster from a few weeks earlier and was in shock. But luckily she was in the bathroom when it happened. It was just some stupid nightmare, normal kid's stuff.

"And you have to eat again. No more playing with your food. If you start pulling that hunger-strike crap again I'm gonna spank you _for_ Dad."

He wanted to laugh at her mortified expression, but it would ruin the seriousness of the moment. "I'll eat, I promise!" she agreed quickly, thrusting her pinky finger out at him. Dean stared at it in confusion for a minute until understanding dawned on him and he linked their pinkies together.

The two sat in comfortable silence, until Gracie broke it with a quiet whisper. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Is this that thing you called a…a chick-flick moment?"

His eyes widened. "Er, no, no way. It's more like…a little sister-big brother moment."

"Do you do this with Sam?"

"No, and we're not gonna start."

"How come?"

Dean tossed his head back to stare up at the ceiling, and Gracie copied him in curiosity. "Because Gracie, two dudes aren't supposed to start talking about their feelings and crap; it's against the rules."

"Rules? Like Daddy's rules?"

"More like Dean's rules."

Gracie's face brightened. "Can I have rules, too, Dean?" she asked excitedly.

Dean laughed, ruffling her hair. "Yeah, when you're old enough to make people listen to them."

Gracie sighed, "When I'm older, I'm gonna have a rule that everybody has to listen to Gracie's rules."

Dean tried hard not to laugh. It was just such a Gracie-thing to say it made him smile. He was glad his sister was acting more like herself again.

She looked up at her big brother with big, innocent eyes. "And Dean?"

"Huh?"

Dean watched a cheeky grin that reminded him of his own light up his sister's face. "I still don't like pie."

~SPN~

The minute they pulled up to the neat, two-story brick building called Hickory Elementary and Dean hopped out of the car, Gracie wasn't sure she wanted to go to school anymore. Dean told her there'd be lots of other kids to play with, and fun things like story-time and snacks, but what if Dean was just telling her that? What if it was actually scary inside?

John rolled down his window after the kids got out. "Go straight to your classroom." He instructed. "Dean'll take you there." He looked down at his two younger children and a rare smile appeared. "Have fun, okay? I'll be back to pick you up this afternoon."

With that, John gave them a final wave and drove off. They watched the Impala disappear down the road. "Well, let's get this show on the road." Dean said, sounding a little less than enthusiastic.

He was almost at the front steps of the school before he noticed he didn't hear the two sets of footsteps that should be behind him. The twins were hesitating, lagging behind. Dean looked back impatiently, "Are you _still_ worried about school? Come on, first grade is a cakewalk."

"I'm scared Dean; what if nobody likes us?" Sam mumbled, making the puppy dog eyes.

"You'll make lotsa friends, Sammy. You just gotta make 'em before they get to know you." he joked, patting Sam on the back. "Oh! And you know what Dad said: don't tell anybody, especially not the teacher that we're staying at a motel, or that Dad goes away sometimes."

"How come?" Sam asked, curious.

Dean sighed in exasperation. "Do you always have to ask so many questions? Because bad people could come and take you away. They wouldn't understand how we live. So just don't say anything weird, got it?"

Sam nodded quickly and Gracie did too. Dean smiled in satisfaction. "Good. Now let's get you guys to your classroom."

The twins followed their big brother to the door of their class, and Dean kneeled down in front of them, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "This is where I gotta go. But hey, you remember what we talked about, right? Good touch, bad touch?"

"Uh-huh." They nodded.

"What do you do if it's a bad touch?"

Gracie paused, finger to her lips in thought. "If it's a girl, poke her in the eyes. Um, and if it's a boy, kick him between the legs?" she recited.

"Atta girl." Dean went to ruffle her hair, but she blocked him by putting her arms up, so he pinched her cheek instead.

"Ow!"

"Look out for Sam, 'cause you know he's a wuss."

"Am not! Y-you're a jerk." Sam declared.

"And sometimes you're a little bitch." Dean replied coolly. "Now get in there and show 'em who's boss." He stood up and knocked on the door.

Sam and Gracie held hands beside him as a smiling blonde woman in her early thirties came to the door. "Oh, well you must be the new students I was told I'd be getting. Gracie and Sam, right?"

"Yep," Dean grinned. "All ready for their first day of first grade. I'm their brother Dean by the way. My dad had to get to work, so I'm just dropping them off."

"Thank you, Dean." The woman said. "I'm Ms. Young. And they're in capable hands." She assured, stepping aside to usher the twins into the classroom. "Now come right this way and we'll introduce you two to the class." She turned to the boy still standing in the hall, "Dean, you'd better get to your homeroom before you're late." Ms. Young said kindly. "I'll take it from here."

"Thanks," he waved his goodbye and walked down the hall, towards his own classroom.

Ms. Young brought them into the classroom where around twenty other kids were already seated in desks grouped in clusters of four. Through their joined hands, Gracie could feel a lot of nervousness mixed with excitement coming from Sam, but she was sure she was probably experiencing the same thing.

"Okay, everybody, eyes this way." Ms. Young addressed the students. "Today we have two new friends joining us. Everyone say hello to Sam and Gracie Winchester."

"Hi Sam and Gracie!" the class responded. Despite himself, Sam waved shyly.

"I think we'll let you stay together for right now, so you can have seats over there with Shelby and Hazel. Please raise your hands." Two little girls raised their hands and the Winchester twins made their way to their new seats.

"I'm Hazel and that's Shelby." the little girl on their left said. She had mousy brown hair in a ponytail and bright green eyes. The girl beside her had short brown hair and wore pink glasses, her eyes also green.

"Are you twins?" Hazel asked.

Gracie nodded. "How'd you know?"

"Just guessed." Hazel shrugged.

"We're twins too!" Shelby exclaimed, smiling.

"Wow, we've never met other twins before." Sam said, awed.

"I'm glad that our new students are fitting in, but let's continue with what we had planned." Ms. Young interrupted. She pointed to several empty egg cartons and some seed packets she had on her desk. "We're going to watch these bean sprouts grow and change from seeds to plants. Everyone please come line up and you'll each get your own seed to plant."

The students stood up and filed into a line in front of the teacher's desk. Ms. Young gave each child a carton filled with soil to hold and sprinkled tiny seeds into their palms. As Gracie and Sam waited near the middle next to Hazel and Shelby, Shelby tapped the redhead's shoulder.

"I like your hair." Shelby whispered.

Gracie smiled bashfully. "Thank you," she whispered back.

"Does your mommy or daddy have red hair too?"

Gracie's smile slowly turned into a frown. "We don't have a mommy." Sam must have heard this, because he turned around and grabbed her hand, squeezing gently.

Shelby looked surprised. "Oh, sorry..."

There was no more talking between them after that. By the time Ms. Young handed them everyone their seeds and showed them how to make a hole with their pinkies and bury the seed in the soil, Gracie was feeling sad. She didn't really ask Dean or Daddy, but now she wondered why they didn't have a mom. Everybody was supposed to have a mom and dad. At least that's what she guessed. But she just had a dad. Was that normal? That question stuck in her head the rest of the day.

Ms. Young read them Jack and the Beanstalk after they planted the bean sprouts, and told them maybe they could grow their own beanstalk. Sam made friends with a boy named Ian and they built a Lego tower. They had art time and lunch time, played outside and saw Dean during recess, but the whole time all Gracie could think about was why they didn't have a mom.

When John came to get them, Gracie watched the other kids running to their parents, some got picked up by their moms, some by their dads, and some by both. When they got back to the motel and John went out on a dinner run, Gracie sat down at the small table with her homework. Sam had already started his in the car and was almost done, but she was too distracted.

"Hey Gracie, need some help?" She looked up to see Dean standing over her and peering down at the piece of paper she was supposed to be working on. Coloring in all the even numbers to make a picture or something.

"Dean? How come...how come we don't have a mommy?" The temperature in the room suddenly felt colder. Dean froze, gripping the edge of the table so tight his knuckles turned white. Sam stopped coloring and looked up.

"Yeah, how come Dean?" he chimed in. "Daddy never says, but we're 'sposed to have a mommy, right?"

Dean ran a hand through his hair, sighing loudly. "Just finish your homework. We're not talking about this right now."

"But Dean," Sam whined.

"No, Sammy! And don't try to ask Dad when he gets back, either. Because he's just gonna get mad." Dean stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door. A minute later they could hear the water running. He was probably washing his face and trying to cool off.

Sam stared down at the table, frowning. Gracie reached across and tried to grab his hand, but the minute she did she felt so sad her eyes started getting watery, so she had to let go. "I just wanna know." she heard Sam whispering. "Why can't we know?"

"I dunno Sammy. I wanna know too."

"If we ask Dean again later, you think maybe he'll tell us." Sam looked up hopefully, trying to hide his own tears as he swiped a hand across his eyes.

Gracie shrugged half-heartedly. She wondered why she didn't have a mommy too. Dean knew, but he wouldn't say, and he said they couldn't ask Daddy, 'cause he'd be mad. She never wanted to make Dean or Daddy mad. But it wasn't fair...she wanted to know where their mommy was. Did she have red hair? Was she nice? Didn't she love them?

The more she thought about it, the more sad it made her. She knew it was something that wasn't just going to go away. So she picked up a crayon and started to color on her homework, wishing everything wasn't so confusing.

* * *

 **Okay, a little bit of self-insertion into Gracie's character with this. I'm the one that developed a dislike of pie in childhood. I ate some blueberry pie once, got incredibly sick (I think it may have been sitting out too long or something) and could never really look at pie the same way again. I didn't eat any for a long time, and just recently started eating apple, and only apple, on occasion. Even then, sometimes I just eat the filling and not the crust. I know, I know…that's like sacrilege to Dean (and any other pie-lovers out there) but I'm definitely Team Cake all the way. Lol So Gracie is too, or will be eventually.**

 **At this point I see Gracie as being a child who tends to internalize things. So she's not butting heads with John as much as Sam might, but there're also times when she may not be totally obedient like Dean. She wants to avoid conflict if and when possible though, which is why she decides not to tell her family what she saw, and this leads to that anxiety and loss of appetite we see here. So glad Dean was able to snap her out of it though~I felt like this chapter really needed some big brother Dean feels. :3**

 **Anyway, I hope this chapter was another interesting look into my take on the Winchesters childhoods (with Gracie along for the ride). I tried channeling some of the experiences I remembered from my own time in elementary school in this chapter as well. We grew beans, raised caterpillars to butterflies, made our own food and had ticket raffles for prizes. Not to mention storytime and movies every Friday. Good times...especially compared to college.**

 **Please review! It would mean a lot to me.**


	4. Initials

**Sorry this update took some time…I had a lot of stressful things going on and I really think it gave me a bad case of writer's block for this chapter…but I'm back in the saddle now. So yay! I'm glad this story is picking up popularity with its follows/favorites but can you guys please try to review? Feedback would really help. Thank you so much to those who have been nothing but encouraging and supportive. You know who you are. ;)**

* * *

Two weeks had passed since Sam had asked Dean about their mom, and they were still in New Hampshire. Not because John hadn't finished the case though. No, he had demolished what turned out to be a chain of cursed objects in record time. But deciding his kids could at least stay at the same school for a month, he had occupied himself taking other hunting jobs within driving distance. He had apparently joined hands with two other hunters, surprising since Dean knew his dad preferred to go stag.

Luckily, Sam had taken his warning to heart and hadn't pestered dad about why their mom wasn't in the picture. But unfortunately for Dean that meant his little brother had put all his energy into pestering him instead. Dean couldn't even find it in himself to be angry anymore. He was just nervous. Sam was a pretty smart kid for his age, and he was afraid that eventually he'd slip up and Sam would figure out something he shouldn't.

As for Gracie, she had thankfully decided not to take the same approach. Sometimes Dean felt lucky he at least had a kid sister that knew when to drop things. He wasn't fooled into thinking she wanted to know any less than Sam. Curiosity was all over her face every time Sam begged Dean to tell them. But there was also sadness there too. She looked at him like she really understood. If he thought about it, his brother and sister were both pretty sensitive. But with Gracie it was…kind of bizarre, actually.

Dean shrugged. He'd started to get used to the idea that weirdness ran in their family. Dean glanced over at Sam to see his little brother staring at the crayons he was holding. He had a feeling Sam was gonna be hard to convince that being a Winchester meant being weird. Poor kid.

His eyes shifted to Gracie, who was furiously scribbling something on a blank piece of paper, switching colors every few seconds. Dean wouldn't be surprised if Gracie already knew their family wasn't normal, or at least had an idea.

It was at that moment that John Winchester walked through the door, arms full of food, and his face reading exhaustion. Two heads lifted up from their work at the table, and Dean watched them rush to greet their dad. Gracie got to him first but Sam wasn't far behind. "Daddy!" she squealed, throwing herself at him and wrapping her body around his legs.

"Hi sweetheart," he chuckled tiredly, carefully walking over to set the food down on the table, Gracie still clinging to his pants like a baby koala. John glanced at his oldest son, who was sitting quietly on the couch, and nodded down at the little girl. "Dean, a little help here." Dean got up, detaching his sister from their father's legs as she whined in protest.

"Daddy, guess what we did at school today?" Sam began excitedly.

"What's that, son?"

"We learned new words, and I got this for spelling everything right!" he ran to his backpack and proudly produced a blue ribbon with "Smarty" written on it. Dean snorted, rolling his eyes. John took the Chinese food out of the bag and began dividing it up on paper plates.

"Great job, Sam." He managed a small smile. Turning to the pressure he felt against his leg, he was bewildered to see Gracie had now hid her face in Petey. "And what about you, Gracie? You got a ribbon to show me?"

Slowly lifting her reddened face, she shook her head, but went to her own pink backpack, pulling out a slightly crumbled, folded note and handing it to John without meeting his eyes. Dean glanced at his sister in confusion, and John unfolded the note with a furrowed brow. It wasn't like his kids to get into trouble at school. Except the occasional note that came home with Dean about his lack of attention in classes or trouble with smarting off. But the twins? He'd never had to worry about them doing anything that required disciplinary action at school.

He glimpsed the note, apparently from their teacher, explaining that she had noticed Gracie had a hard time spelling and reading. She had been mixing up the order of letters since the class had started learning to spell. Ms. Young had her suspicions it might be a learning disability, but wanted to have Gracie meet with one of their counselors to confirm.

John folded the note and put it in his pocket with a sigh. At least he knew no one was in trouble, but this thing with Gracie….how was he supposed to handle it? Ms. Young had said his attendance at the meeting would be appreciated, but it wasn't exactly something he had much experience in. He usually left looking after the twins' needs to Dean when he was busy, but that probably wouldn't be an option here. A ten-year old couldn't sit in on a meeting in place of a parent.

"Dad?" he glanced down to see Dean looking up at him, a mouthful of low mein noodles dangling down his chin.

"Chew with your mouth closed." John instructed, handing him a napkin. "And slow down, the food ain't goin' anywhere."

Dean mumbled what sounded like "yes sir" but with his mouth crammed full of noodles it was hard to be sure.

His eyes met the sight of Sam happily digging into his own food while avoiding the steamed vegetables on his plate, and Gracie eating in slower, more measured bites than her brothers. He studied her carefully. She looked perfectly normal. A happy, healthy kid. John had been slightly panicked at the prospect of raising a little girl as a single father—what did he know about little girls?— but Gracie had actually been a blessing.

She was a happy-go-lucky, sensitive and good-humored little girl. Sometimes her laugh or a twinkle she got in her eyes reminded him so much of Mary. Other times he recognized her as her own person, all Gracie and completely unique.

"Looks like I'm gonna be having a talk with your teacher." John said, his eyes thoughtful as he made his own plate and sat down heavily.

Gracie peered up from her plate timidly, clumsily pushing some of the noodles that had started to slide out of her mouth back in with both hands. "Daddy," she said quietly after swallowing, "Are…are you mad at me?"

John looked into his daughter's big pleading eyes, shaking his head. "No Gracie," he said tiredly. "No I'm not mad."

She smiled before going back to her food. Sam bit into his eggroll, still studying their father. He couldn't figure out why Dad seemed disappointed. If he wasn't mad at Gracie then what was wrong?

John tucked into his own dinner wordlessly, not really processing the rest of dinner's events. The silence over the room was broken when Dean cracked open his fortune cookie, yelling brightly, " _You'll get what you want most when you least expect it_!" He turned to John, eyes gleaming, "That must mean you brought pie!"

John, still in a daze, reached into the bottom of the large paper bag and retrieved the slice of apple pie, handing it over to his gleeful son.

* * *

The first things John noticed was that the counselor's office was bright and colorful, maybe in the hopes of making students and their parents feel welcome. Personally, it made John antsy. He hadn't really set foot in a school outside of the front office since Dean was in kindergarten.

Give him some rock salt rounds and an evil spirit and he'd be right in his element. Here, he felt out of place. John Winchester was no PTA parent; rarely did he get involved with the schools unless it was necessary. Like now.

Gracie's teacher, Ms. Young, entered the room, flanked by a woman with slightly grayed hair and kind, misty eyes in a gaudy floral dress. John sat up straight as the women approached. "Mr. Winchester, this is our resident specialist on learning disabilities, Mrs. Jamison." John shook the woman's cold, clammy hand.

"Hello Mr. Winchester, very nice to meet you. Your daughter Grace and I met not long ago, and I must say she's got quite a creative mind. So refreshing to see a child so young already comfortable in their own skin, if I may say so."

"She's definitely a daydreamer." John breathed a chuckle he was surprised was genuine. When he talked about his children, he almost felt like any other parent, not a single dad raising his kids on the road so he could hunt monsters most people wouldn't even believe existed.

"Nothing wrong with dreaming." Mrs. Jamison replied cheerfully. "Of course the issue isn't with Gracie's imagination, but the fact that she seems to be struggling to read and write." She plucked up a file she'd had under her arm and gingerly handed it across the table to John.

John opened them and peered at his daughter's childish handwriting. On one side of the page, the teacher had neatly written words for the children to practice spelling, and on the other side of the page, were Gracie's attempts to replicate them. He immediately noticed that word's like "cat" and "apple" had certain letters switched.

John glanced up from the folder to look at the two women across the table. "But how do you know there's something wrong? Don't most kids need time to learn to spell?" Ms. Young looked at the man sympathetically.

"Well, that's true. Misspelled words isn't so uncommon in the beginning, that's why we practice them so regularly. Consistency is key." She explained. "But while the children were at recess I had Gracie stay behind and told her to read me a list of words we'd been practicing all week. I realized the sounds she was making were actually how she saw the words I was asking her to read. Of course they'd be sounds if the letters were scrambled. But as soon as I got her to slow down, she seemed to do fine. Albeit it took her longer than average, but she _does_ possess the ability to learn to read and write."

John listened intently, his face blank.

"Which leads me to my diagnosis Mr. Winchester. Your daughter is a bright, imaginative child and there's simply a cognitive disconnect between her level of intelligence for her age, which is very high, as far as I can tell, and the way her brain processes letters. In short, she has dyslexia."

John stiffened, and he could tell that both women were giving him time to digest the news. "Dyslexia."

Mrs. Jamison nodded, handing him a small pamphlet with " **Your Child and Dyslexia** " written in bold.

"That's my professional opinion, yes. Now don't worry. Dyslexia isn't a roadblock so much as an obstacle. She may have to take detours for now, but it's something that many children can outgrow with the proper amount of help. I highly recommend having her read out loud as much as possible, slowly, so she gets used to sounding out words and gives her mind time to catch up to what her eyes are seeing."

"Mrs. Jamison and I will work with her at school as well, of course. And if you ever have any questions or concerns, don't hesitate to ask. We're here to help." Ms. Young was quick to add. "Grace has immense promise, and I'm sure she'll be on par with the class in no time."

John only offered a slight tip of his head as he looked down at the papers and pamphlet in his hand. His daughter had a learning handicap. Something that would take time and lots of patience to help her overcome. He didn't particularly have either. He stroked his scruffy chin out of habit, wondering over how he was supposed to handle this.

"Thank you," he said at last, his voice low as he tossed everything around in his head. "I'll get to work on helping her right away." He quickly shook hands with both professionals, got up from the tiny uncomfortable chair he'd been perched on, and left the room, missing the worried glances the women traded.

* * *

As Gracie sat with her homework that afternoon, tracing the dotted lines that were meant to help her learn to write letters correctly, her father suddenly entered: late, as usual. Sam greeted him cheerfully while Dean helped him to unload some of the packages he was carrying. "Uh Dad, what's all this stuff? This isn't for a h—this isn't what you normally read."

"It's for your sister, Dean." Gracie's head shot up, and she turned with wide eyes to see her father handing Dean a stack of picture books, probably from the library. Sam eyed them curiously, a glint of envy in his eyes.

"How come I didn't get books?" he pouted.

"Because Gracie's the one that needs the practice, Sam." John said gruffly. Dean expected Sam to keep arguing about how it was unfair, but was mildly surprised when his little brother nodded simply.

"Right. So after dinner I want you to sit down and read those out loud." John told his daughter, nodding at the stack of books Dean sat on the table.

Gracie frowned, her eyes looked pleading. "But Daddy…when I have to read everybody laughs at me." Dean lifted his head, instantly feeling his protective big brother instincts rising to the surface.

"That's why you're practicing. By the time you're through there won't be anything for them to laugh at." John said. He saw the look on Gracie's face and added: "I don't want to hear any more about it." He finally sat down the diner food he'd brought and watched his kids gather around the table. Dean dug into his burger with gusto, and so did Sam. Gracie was still sulking, but she ate.

SPNxSPNxSPNxSPNxSPNxSPNxSPN

Dean noticed how much Gracie had been dragging her feet when he dropped the kids off at their classroom. Sam practically had to haul her through the school's door. It didn't take a genius to figure out why. Ever since her dyslexia had come to light, the kids had not been kind.

She wouldn't tell who was teasing her or how, not even to Sam. They tended to gang up on her when she was separated from her brother. But Sam had been tasked with relaying any information he could find directly to Dean.

"Alright. Dad's not gonna be back til tomorrow, so, pick you up this afternoon." Dean mumbled. In one last act of desperation, Gracie managed to get her hand away from Sam's to lunge herself onto her older brother.

"Please, please…" she chanted quietly. "I don't wanna. They're mean to me."

Dean stroked her hair as she pressed her face into his shirt. "Gracie, you know if you need me all you have to do is come find me at recess. Say the word and I'll pound those little worms into the pavement." He swore vehemently.

It killed him to see his sister going through this. She was a good kid who didn't bother anyone. And Dean knew she didn't want him to get in trouble at school or with Dad for fighting. But it went even further when she told him she didn't want him to hurt anybody.

The fact that she was willing to protect those little brats amazed him. Her gentleness was definitely _not_ something she had inherited from the Winchester side of the family. She knew her big brother well enough to know he'd make good on his threats, which was why she wasn't telling him. But she couldn't hide it forever. Especially with Sam on his side.

Sam slowly walked over to Gracie and patted her arm. "You can stay with me when we go to the playground." He told her, smiling.

Dean nodded his agreement as he pushed Gracie back by the shoulders to look into her lightly freckled face. "Yeah, stay with Sammy, okay?"

Gracie wanted to protest, but decided not to. Her brothers were trying to keep those bullies from hurting her feelings. They always came and found her when she was with Shelby and Hazel near the monkey bars. They called her names, pulled her hair, and once, she had even gotten sand dumped down the back of her shirt.

It was mostly Jimmy Buchanan and his two friends that did it. They threatened Shelby and Hazel when the girls tried to tell, warning them that they'd be next. Gracie really didn't blame her friends for being quiet, especially when they had played keep-away with Shelby's glasses until she cried.

It made Gracie think that maybe it was better if she listened to her big brother. At least then her friends wouldn't get picked on because of her.

* * *

When recess came, Gracie thought she was ready. Instead of following Shelby, Hazel and some of the other girls, she followed after Sam and his friend Ian. The boys headed straight for the monkey bars and Gracie joined them enthusiastically. She watched as Ian shimmied his way up and proceeded to hang upside down. Sam followed his example and climbed the monkey bars easily, but when Gracie tried she only managed to pull herself up by a few inches before falling back to her feet.

Frowning, she reached both hands toward the monkey bars and started jumping in earnest. "Want help?" asked Sam.

"Nuh-uh. I can do it by my-eek!" she cried out when her shirt was suddenly flipped over her head.

She stumbled blindly, scared as someone pushed her from behind and she landed hard on her stomach. When she lifted her head from the ground, the first thing she saw was Jimmy looking down on her, smiling big.

"Hi Gracie," he said, acting like he hadn't just watched his friends shove her face into the dirt.

"Hey!" She heard Sam yell as he quickly jumped down.

Ian flipped himself up again and eyed the bullies cautiously. Jimmy was big and mean, and a year older than everybody else because he got held back. He picked on whoever he thought was the weakest link, boy or girl. But usually he got bored quick. Ian couldn't remember Jimmy picking on anybody as hard as he picked on Gracie.

"Stay outta this," one of Jimmy's friends said, standing in front of Sam to block him.

"Yeah. Jimmy only wants to talk to Gracie right now." said Ryan Peterson.

"Well, anybody that messes with her messes with me!" Sam said. Gracie slowly lifted herself and checked her elbows, which were throbbing, but only dirty. The front of her shirt was worse though. It was more brown than green now.

"I'm not messin' with her though." Jimmy said, still feigning innocence. "I just wanted to tell her my mama read me a bedtime story so I learned a new word."

" _Your_ mama reads to you, too, right?" Jimmy asked, leaning down into her face. "Oh yeah, I forgot you don't have a mama. Weirdo." he flicked Gracie hard on the nose and she yelped in pain.

"Stop it!" Sam had enough and pushed Hector Diaz out of his way with his shoulder.

"You're a weirdo, too, you know." Jimmy informed him, whirling to face Sam. That stopped him in his tracks. No one ever called him a weirdo before, but he knew it wasn't a good thing. "You don't have a mama. And if _she's_ your sister, then that means your gonna be a weirdo-freak just like _her_."

"Freak! Freak! Freak!" Jimmy started chanting. Hector and their friend Ryan joined in. They all started circling the Winchesters, screaming "Freak!" and "Weirdos!"

No one had noticed Ian climb down and slip away, over to the fence where the big kids played on the other side. He found the boy he knew was Sam and Gracie's big brother, 'cause he always brought them to class.

Dean looked up from joking with some of his friends to see a little boy on the other side of the fence watching him urgently. "Uh, hi..."

"Sam...Gracie...m-monkey bars! Jimmy!" Ian sputtered, so worked up he was panting. He had barely sucked down air when Dean easily began scaling the fence, ignorning the calls of the playground monitor to get down.

He dropped deftly to his feet on Ian's side. "Now show me where," he instructed. Ian nodded, rushing back to where he'd left his friends with Dean right behind him.

They arrived at the monkey bars just in time to see Sam step protectively in front a scared looking Gracie, shoving Jimmy hard. "Shut up!" he screamed. The three bullies stared at Sam with wide eyes. Obviously none of them had actually expected either of the Winchesters to fight back. Jimmy was stunned as Sam hovered over him with a look he'd never seen from the boy before. He'd always seemed like a total pushover.

Jimmy barely had time to get over his shock before he was being lifted roughly by his shirt. "You think it's funny pushing kids half your size around?" Hector and Ryan stepped back cautiously. Neither was willing to take on Sam and Gracie's angry big brother.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, surprised. He turned to Ian. The boy smiled nervously at him and shrugged.

"Can't answer now?" Dean asked impatiently, shaking Jimmy.

"S-Sorry!" he finally squeaked, his lower lip quivering.

The oldest Winchester glared. "Yeah I bet you are." his voice turned icy as he muttered, "But the next time you pick on my brother and sister I'll really give you something to be sorry about." He suddenly dropped the boy and he landed shakily on legs that were ready to give out on him. The minute Jimmy had recovered, he and his friends scampered off without a look back.

Dean turned back to his siblings to assess the damage.

Gracie was pale, looking at him with wide eyes. Ian and Sam stood on either side of her, looking up at him reverently.

Dean sighed. "Everybody okay?"

It was at that moment that the playground monitor chose that moment to come stomping over, whistle at her lips. "Mr. Winchester!" she yelled shrilly. Dean groaned. She didn't need the whistle with a voice like that. He slowly met her halfway to them, already knowing what was in store. It wasn't his first run in with the old crone that took her duty to watch over the kids at recess a little too seriously.

"At it again, Mr. Winchester?" The younger children were confused, but Dean knew she was referring to the incident earlier in the week, where a Frisbee game had accidentally hit some scrawny, asthmatic kid in the face and caused his nose to bleed. As if that had been on purpose...not like he hadn't apologized to Wheezy already.

Dean shrugged noncommittally. "Any chance I could just get off with, um, a warning?"

"Not this time. Come with me, young man." Dean followed the plump woman, mouthing that he would see them later and giving a short wink.

Ian watched Ms. Hornsby lead the older boy off before saying breathily, "You were right, Sam. Your big brother really _is_ cool."

Sam grinned slowly. "Told ya,"

* * *

"Dean... did you get in trouble 'cause of us?" Gracie asked softly, frowning.

Dean looked up from his homework to wave off her question. "Nah, Hornsby has it in for me. Couldn't you tell?"

Sam pursed his lips. "You're lying. She said you gotta stay inside and clean the classroom tomorrow, _I heard_." he retorted.

Dean levelled his brother with a glare. "Thanks for the report, Sammy." he growled, chucking an eraser at his brother.

Gracie slid from her place on the bed, taking the book out of her lap. Before he had time to shoo her away, she had wrapped her arms around his neck. "Sorry Dean..." she mumbled.

Dean attempted to shrug it off.

"Not a big deal. Now go finish reading your book."

Her pink lip was still jutted out in a pout as she plopped back down on the bed to continue to read the picture book her teacher had given her to practice with. She rubbed her eyes, blinking hard at the page. She never noticed before, but something was funny...the words looked like a rainbow to her. "I...I can't..."

"Yes, you can." Dean half turned in his seat. "Now read me that page, right where I marked it." he told her, pointing with his pencil.

"I-If you g-ig...um, _give_ a moose...no, mo-use...Dean, this is _hard_!" Gracie expected sympathy from her big brother. He'd tell her she did the best she could and would let her stop. But she hadn't expected for her brother to be as relentless a drill sergeant as their dad.

"Read that sentence again."

" _Dean_ ," Gracie whined, her bottom lip trembling.

Dean glared. "Do you want those punks to keep picking on you or not? I can't keep threatening to beat the crap out of six year olds without actually doing it. That little jerk Jimmy could use some help losing the rest of his teeth." His knuckles cracked wickedly, and Gracie looked ashamed at the memory of the bully who made it his mission to torment her on a daily basis. But he wasn't so tough...he almost peed himself when Dean came!

Since Dad was away again it was up to Dean to take matters into his own hands. And it made her feel bad she made Dean get in trouble. She didn't even know how to stand up for herself. _Sam_ had to do it for her before Dean came. They'd noticed she had a hard time reading, and although the teacher worked with her one on one, it still took her a while to get the hang of sounding out the words. Plus the colors always made her dizzy. Nobody else ever said they saw colors, so Gracie guessed maybe she wasn't supposed to be seeing them either.

Squaring her shoulders, Gracie began reading aloud again. "If you give...a...mouse...a cookie..." she paused in wonder. When she slowed down and concentrated, the words pieced themselves together. "Eh...no, _he_ will want some milk." she grinned and Sam cheered.

"Good job. Told ya you could do it if you tried. Now finish that page and then you can have dinner." Dean knew exactly how to motivate his sister. She gaped at him in disbelief.

"The _whole_ page?"

"Yep," Dean replied, hastily scribbling down answers on his own homework. Who cared 'bout when Columbus sailed the Ocean Blue? Sure, he got to the new world, but did he fight monsters? His dad was way cooler than some dead guy.

"You're mean," she whined. "I'm hungry now."

"Then better get reading. Or I just might eat yours too."

Dean looked at his sister and couldn't help but crack up. It was the first time in her life Gracie had made the bitch face.

* * *

Jimmy didn't bother her the next day after school. He was scared to even look at her. Word must have gotten around not to mess with the Winchesters, because everybody stopped laughing when it was her turn to read. Of course part of the reason was that she was a little better at it now. Gracie still stuttered, and it took her twice as long to finish a page as other kids, but she was slowly making progress. With Ms. Young's guidance and Dean drilling her every night it was hard not to.

When the end of the week came and John told the kids they were moving on, Gracie was almost a little sad. She would miss her friends and teacher. She knew Sam would too. She could tell when he got in the car next to her and frowned while he did his seatbelt. Dean was already in his spot up front while Dad returned the room key and finished checking out.

Gracie watched the world outside the window. A guy mumbling to himself as he blew smoke out of a cigarette. She told Daddy she wanted to try one once, and he said not until she was thirty. Gracie figured he said that because she'd be too old to care about trying one by then. She watched a man yell words Daddy said she couldn't say when he spilled coffee down his shirt. And a woman pushing a cart with towels on it step out of the room next to them.

"Hey, earth to Gracie." She looked up, blinking. Dean was looking back to them, something in his hand. "We gotta do this quick. Before Dad gets back."

"Do what?" Sam asked, now more interested in being included than sulking. It was rare Dean told them to do something that Dad wouldn't like.

"I got this," he flashed a switch blade knife he'd been pocketing, and his siblings gasped loudly.

"Did you take that from Daddy?" Gracie wanted to know. "He's gonna be mad you went in his stuff."

"Nah, he told me I could keep it." Dean reassured her, "Now here, be really careful, okay?"

"What'm I 'sposed to do?" Gracie asked, holding the knife as carefully as possible in her small fist.

"You carve your initials."

"'N-itials?" Sam repeated.

"Like this, see," Dean took the knife back, and leaned further into the backseat on his knees. Carefully, with a practiced hand, he carved " _D.W._ " into the car's floor boards. Sam watched mesmerized, eagerly accepting the knife when his brother was done and carving "S.W." has neatly as he could in his childish hand.

"Your turn," he chirped as he gave the knife to his wide-eyed sister. Gracie leaned down, looking for a place to add her own letters, and decided the spot below Dean's and above Sam's was perfect. Close to her brothers was where she always wanted to be. "G-W-" she whispered as she wrote, then lifted her head up to grin proudly at her brothers.

They wore matching grins of their own as Dean took the knife back from her just as John rounded the corner. The eldest Winchester child quickly pocketed his knife again and without a word, Gracie and Sam assumed their most innocent faces. John approached the car and eyed his children skeptically. Nothing seemed out of place, so he climbed behind the wheel and started the engine.

Later, when he found the initials, they would all get spanked until it hurt to sit for two days. Only further down the road, when John studied the marks and wondered what had possessed his kids to maim his car, would he smile quietly at the three figures curled together in the backseat.

Family was all they had now. It was everything. If his kids didn't understand the importance of anything else, he was glad they understood that.

* * *

 **I love that last scene~ Wee!chester adorableness. I honestly can't imagine John being too happy about his kids doing that to his car, so that's kinda how the scene went over in my mind. Haha**

 **I know when it comes to creating a character from scratch, the best way to keep them realistically balanced is to make them realistically flawed. That's why, although I was kind of hesitant at first, I gave Gracie dyslexia. Don't feel too bad for her though. I'm sure she'll eventually overcome it. She's resilient like that. ^.^ Another chapter or two and then there'll be another time-skip with the Winchesters slightly older again. Still definitely kids, though, but I'm anxious to move this story along to some of the interesting things I have planned.**

 **I also just realized I tend to depict scenes where the Winchesters are eating. A lot. Well, I guess I figure it's probably one of the only times they're all together, and dinner is a conduit for them to discuss whatever important things Wee!chesters need to discuss. Plus, dialogue seems to come easier during these scenes for me. lol**

 **P.S. I have no idea if the book Gracie was reading ( _If You Give a Mouse a Cookie_ ) was out circa 1989, but it is in this story. lol And Gracie is seeing colors when she reads, which is partially why she's having such a hard time on top of the dyslexia. Hmm... Wonder why? _I know_ ~but if anyone can figure it out you may just get some sort of reward (not sure what yet). This will be explained later, maybe in a chapter or so. It's a real thing, though. I didn't make it up.**


	5. Coyote or Roadrunner?

**I'm glad this story's popularity is slowly but surely picking up. Thanks to everyone for the support as well as the friendly suggestions. Glad people seem to like the Weechesters as much as I like writing them. I hope this chapter is also to everyone's liking~ ^_^**

 **It's kind of just a filler chapter I guess. More important events in the next chapter or so. There will also be a two year time-skip if not next chapter, then definitely the one after that.**

 **P.S. Congrats to CatNapObsessed for accurately guessing Gracie's second condition on your first try. The reason why Gracie sees everything she reads in different colors will be revealed soon (so imagine everything you read being in "rainbow"). Again, this is a very real condition, so not made up.**

* * *

She stared down at the paper in her small hands, a confusing mess of words and all kinds of squiggly lines called "routes". There was one spot that was recently circled, and she stumbled to correctly pronounce the words. "Sa…salt,"

Dean grinned. "Keep going,"

"Lkea…" When she looked up and saw her brother's frown, she quickly tried again. "Lae….lake?"

Dean nodded in satisfaction. "Yep, we're near Salt Lake City."

"In Ootah?"

"Utah, Gracie." Dean corrected.

"Oh, sorry." She smiled sheepishly. "Why are we in _Utah_?"

"Daddy says we're gonna meet his friend!" Sam exclaimed, suddenly popping his head up between them. Gracie squealed in surprise but her twin brother was unperturbed.

Sam, who had been taking advantage of the passenger seat being unoccupied, decided to climb into the front to see what he missed out on while they waited for John to check them into their latest motel.

After being thoroughly satisfied he had explored every cranny of the front seat, he tumbled into the back of the Impala head first.

"Sam, stop before you hurt yourself." Dean scolded absently. Luckily, his little brother was perfectly okay as he slid between him and Gracie, peering at the map she was holding.

"This looks like your homework Dean," Sam pointed out, tracing the route they had driven to Utah with his finger.

Dean shrugged in boredom. He never understood the point of geography… His dad was teaching him all the tracking skills he'd ever need. Why did it matter if he understood the distance between point A and point B on some map?

"About homework… I got something for ya Gracie." Dean reached for his duffle bag and began rummaging through it. "Nicked it from the last library we went to."

Gracie watched eagerly, hands held out for her gift.

Sam gave his brother a disapproving frown. "Isn't that bad? You don't even have a liberry card…"

Dean spared Sam a brief roll of his eyes. "What's the point of getting a card if we never stay in the same town for long, huh? This is easier." He finally grabbed what he'd been looking for and presented it to his smiling sister.

"Cool huh, it's—"

"Kitehcn….K…kit…chen Living?" Gracie sounded out, looking up at her brother with curious eyes.

Dean looked down at the book, only to realize it was a cooking magazine. "What? But I…" he picked it up to examine it, frowning in thought. "Crap! I guess my stuff got switched when I bumped into that old lady." He sighed. "Sorry Gracie. I'll get you somethin' else to read, promise."

He tried to stuff the magazine back in his bag, only for a small hand to grab his wrist. "I wanna read it." She declared, eyes determined.

Dean gave her a confused face as she gently tugged the magazine from his hand and held it close. "Uh, but it's a cooking magazine…you don't even know how to cook."

"I wanna learn!"

Sam tilted his head, "Why?"

The redhead smiled gently. "Mama cooked." she said simply. "Right Dean?" Those doe gray eyes were trained on him.

Shocked, he stared at her face with wide green eyes. "Y-Yeah…all the time." he finally said. "She made…the best pies."

He swallowed thickly. Sometimes it felt like just yesterday that his mom would call him in from the backyard and wrap him in a warm hug. She'd make him go get clean and then give him a piece of pie just for him.

"I wanna be more like Mama." Gracie continued. "So I'm gonna learn to cook."

Dean wasn't sure what to say to that.

Luckily for him, Sam came to his rescue. "That means we don't have to eat take-out all the time." He cheered.

Gracie gave him a mega-watt smile, basking in his encouragement. "I wanna cook just like Mama…so that's why I gotta learn to read this." She waved the magazine at them.

Dean composed himself. How could he possibly do anything other than be a supportive big brother when she was so determined and excited. She wanted to feel closer to the mom she never got to know…what was wrong with that?

Dean smiled slowly. "Well, better get started then."

* * *

"Kids, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. This is Frank Jones." John introduced the man shortly after they'd stepped into his home. "Frank, these are my kids Dean, Sam and Gracie."

"Nice ta meet ya— put 'er there." Frank stuck his hand out in front of Dean and the oldest Winchester child took it cautiously, surprised by the man's strong grip.

"Well, come on." Frank ushered the Winchesters inside, "John, I'll tell you why I called you up here and the kids can watch some cartoons." He shut the door behind them and looked down at the kids. "You like cartoons don't you?"

The twins eagerly nodded while Dean shrugged. "Eh, it depends…" he mumbled.

"Oh, a connoisseur, are you? Well I happen to know there's nothing finer than the classics, and there's a marathon on right now." Frank nodded his head toward the direction of the living room.

Dean eyed him skeptically. Was this guy seriously Dad's contact? "But aren't you like fifty? That's kind of old for cartoons."

John shot his son a warning look, pointing toward the living room. "Dean, go."

The man watched with stern eyes as his children quickly scampered to the couch to watch Woodie the Woodpecker.

"Sorry about that. His mouth runs away with him before his head catches up sometimes."

"Ah, they're kids. No harm no foul." Frank assured. "Now, let's talk in the kitchen over beers and I'll get down to the meat and potatoes of this hunt." He gave the younger man a light clap on the back and John followed him silently.

Twenty minutes into cartoon watching and Gracie was getting restless. While her brothers' eyes were glued on the TV watching as Wile E. Coyote's plans to catch Roadrunner yet again backfired, she was deep in thought. As deep in thought as a six-year old could be, that was.

"Why does…he keep chasing the roadrunner if he never catches him? All he does is hurt himself." She mumbled.

Dean looked up as the cartoon ended and a commercial came on. "Well, 'cause it's funny…and that's just how cartoons work."

"You do stuff that hurts you?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, sometimes I guess."

"The doggy never dies though, right?"

Dean looked at her strangely. "He's a coyote Gracie, and considering he's done something that would kill you in like every episode ever, I'm guessing he's okay."

"Yeah, he just dropped the piano on his head but he'll be fine next episode." Sam pointed out.

Dean nodded. "Yeah…see? So, it's no big deal if he blows himself up with TNT, Grace. Besides, it's just a cartoon. Everybody knows he woulda been dead a long time ago if it was real life."

She went quiet, not really paying much attention to the cereal commercial. She really wanted to know if Daddy was more like the roadrunner that got chased by monsters but always ended up getting away, or the coyote that was always trying to catch monsters and got hurt but always was okay in the end. She couldn't ask though, because then they would know she saw.

In the kitchen the two men had just sat down at Frank's table. The older man handed John a newspaper with highlighted sections. "Thanks for coming by on such short notice. I don't really do much hunting—or any— but I've had my fair share of run-ins with the bizarre and met some hunters along the way. I pass along whatever weird news I see to whoever's close by and since you weren't too far out, I guess the call went to you this time." John looked at the paper, which talked about campers found ripped to pieces with wounds inconsistent with any wild animals in the area.

"Could just be some wacko serial killer, but…I doubt it. No bear or human or deer or whatever's in the woods around these parts could do the kind of damage they're describing."

John nodded slowly before glancing up. "Thought you said there'd be beer?"

Frank chuckled, gesturing toward the refrigerator. John made to stand but he held up a hand. "No, no…I'll get it." He crooked his finger at the fridge and the door flew open, two cold beers floating toward them and landing on the table.

Frank took his without hesitation and opened it, taking a long pull. "Well what? You got something against Bud?"

John raised a brow and opened his own bottle. "So the rumors are true. You're some kind of psychic?"

"Psychokinetic." Frank corrected. "Move stuff with my mind. Don't ask me how. I've been this way for as long as I can remember. Once I figured it out, I trained myself to the point where I could control it."

John found it interesting but decided not to press. The case took precedence after all. "According to this the campgrounds are probably 30-miles out from here. I'll run the kids back to the motel and then head out."

Frank shook his head. "You've already got all your gear in the car I'm assuming? Why make an extra trip. I can watch 'em for a bit, you get on this." He pointed at the paper. "The sooner you get out there and put down the son of a bitch the less people who have to die."

John considered him for a minute. He didn't know the man very well and he had strange powers. But he was right. The sooner he could get on the case, the better. Besides, Bobby—one of the hunters Frank had met before— was the one who had directed Frank to contact John, who had only been one state away, resting up from the last hunt.

"Alright. I'll try not to be too long." he finished his beer before shaking Frank's hand and standing.

"Just do what you need to."

Dean caught sight of his mother making for the door as he passed the living room and got up to follow him. "Dad, are we leaving?" he called.

John glanced back. "No son, just me. You and your brother and sister are gonna stay here with Frank until I get back. Be good. No smartass remarks." He was out the door before Dean could even respond.

He sighed heavily, turning around to see Frank stand in the foyer, holding a cold bottle of Bud in hand. "Beer?" he offered, letting go of the bottle; it floated towards the boy.

Dean felt his jaw visibly drop. "H-how are you doing that?"

"Magic." Frank smirked. "Here, take the beer."

"Uh, you know I'm like ten, right?"

"So?" Frank shrugged. "I had my first taste when I was your age. Go on, try a sip." Dean hesitantly took the bottle from midair, grinning slightly.

"Thanks…" he took a slow sip and immediately started coughing.

He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand with disdain. "Gross…Dad drinks _this_ all the time?"

Frank smiled. "It's an acquired taste, my boy."

"I'll say…" he mumbled.

He heard scampering feet and looked up to see Sam and Gracie come darting out of the living room, looking around curiously.

"Where's Daddy?" Sam asked.

"Gone. So we'll be here for a while. Well, until he gets back…whenever that is."

"He didn't say goodbye." Gracie frowned.

"He told me to tell you." Dean said quickly. "And to be good."

Sensing the quickly dropping mood from the youngest Winchesters and guessing that they had no clue what their father did, Frank decided to distract them. "So. How do you kids feel about games?"

"What kinda games?" Sam asked, perking up slightly. "Do you have an Atari mister?"

Frank shook his head. "Nothing that high tech, I'm afraid. But what about a nice board game. Or a game of cards?"

"We dunno how to play cards…" Gracie mumbled, speaking for herself and Sam.

"No time like the present to learn, then." Frank motioned for them to follow and all three children did, Dean still sipping his beer and trying to suppress his gag reflex.

* * *

Gracie sat on the hard mattress and silently mouthed the words that made up the list of ingredients. According to Dean, the recipe she was studying was for making garlic bread. She painstakingly sounded out each word with absolute concentration, satisfied when she was able to make the connection between the word and the item she would need to use.

"Is that fun?" Sam asked suddenly. He had been absorbed in watching his sister mouth words to herself for the last thirty minutes. He hadn't wanted to disturb her, but he had to ask. From where he sat it didn't look like fun.

She looked up and shrugged. "It's gonna help me learn to cook. That's what Dean said."

Sam's face scrunched. "What Dean said," he repeated slowly.

Annoyance rolled off Sam and hit her. Even though she knew her brother enough to know when he was upset, lately she _felt_ it too. When she touched people, or when they were close to her, she _felt_.

"Dean _said_ Daddy would be back for us…but he just left us here and went out again." Sam grumbled, looking around the dingy motel room.

Two hours after leaving them at Frank's, John had quickly gathered them, only to stuff the motel key into Dean's hand and nearly speed away with the strap of Gracie's duffle bag still caught in the door. Dean saw it as his dad being hot on the trail of whatever he was hunting. Obviously he didn't want it to go cold. His siblings, especially Sam, just saw it as their dad leaving them yet again.

Gracie watched the door. The room didn't have a microwave so Dean had gone to find one to heat up dinner. She scooted closer to Sam and held his hand, trying not to flinch. His feelings came flooding into her and it left her skin buzzing. Sammy didn't act like he noticed though. No one ever noticed, just like no one ever said they saw the colors in the words. Just another secret she had to keep. "Daddy loves us. He just has to work a lot." She said quietly.

That didn't seem to appease him much. "Yeah, but…"

A rhythmic knock sounded at the door. It was one of Dean's favorite songs and the code they used. "Dean's back!" Gracie smiled, getting up and unlocking the deadbolt. Dean grinned in greeting, pushing his way into the room with his arms holding a pizza box.

He put it down on the table, looking proud.

"Where'd you get that?" Sam asked as he slid off the bed.

"I went to go ask if I could use the microwave and the lady at the front desk said I looked too skinny, so she gave it to me."

Gracie's eyes widened as he opened the box to reveal a steaming pepperoni pizza. "Are you sure we can have this?"

"Sure I'm sure. She said she ordered two but her husband…um, I think she said he's a trucker, won't be back for two more days so she's got extra and—ah, who cares? Just hurry up and eat!" Dean grabbed a slice and began stuffing his face, yelping when he burned his tongue.

"H-Hot!"

Gracie ran to the small fridge in the corner and pushed the six pack of beers aside to hand Dean a cold soda. He accepted it gratefully, popping the tab and chugging half of it.

"Much better, thanks." Gracie got two more sodas and then climbed onto a seat at the table, sitting on her knees.

"C'mon Sammy, eat some." She urged, taking her own slice of pizza.

Sam hesitantly grabbed a slice, ignoring the way his stomach growled and eating slowly.

He _still_ didn't understand why their dad was always leaving. Didn't he miss them? Dean said it was because his job made him busy. But busy parents still played with their kids, right?

"Ow!" he cried out as Dean flicked him in the forehead. Hard.

"Quit spacin' out and eat." he ordered.

"Jerk!" he yelled instinctively. Dean only snickered but Gracie took the time to set her slice of pizza down and push Sam's bangs aside to examine the mark.

"Pain, pain, go away…" she chanted, kissing his forehead.

Sam blinked. It really didn't hurt anymore. There was a faint tingling and then that was gone too.

"Thanks Gracie,"

She smiled sweetly and resumed eating.

"It didn't hurt _that_ much. You're such a baby, Sam." Dean grumbled before sipping his soda. He found himself cringing when Gracie smacked him with her rolled up cooking magazine surprisingly hard.

"Hey!"

"You hit Sam so I hit you." She explained. "Now be nice!"

Dean glared. "I'm the older brother around here. You can't—" He flinched away when he saw her raise the magazine in warning.

He ducked his face to hide the flush of shame. His little sister was disciplining him like a dog…and it was working.

When Gracie decided he didn't look like he'd retaliate she set the magazine down with a giggle and crammed the half-eaten crust into her mouth. "Good Dean!" she chirped, feeling cheeky.

"That's it; come here!" he snatched her off the seat and she squealed in alarm.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she fought to get away.

"Don't wanna hear it." He tossed his sister down on the bed and immediately set in tickling her sides, watching as she squirmed away from his fingers, squealing.

"S-Stooo-eek!" It was hard to get her breath when she was laughing so hard.

"I wanna play too!" Sam yelled, dropping his pizza on a plate and running over to join in. He assaulted her other side, and Gracie whined in betrayal.

She swatted at their hands, wriggling away, red-faced and breathless. Somehow, she managed to escape, only to lose her balance and teeter off the edge of the bed.

Her brothers immediately looked over the edge of the bed, hearing her yelp. But it was more from surprise than pain.

Her arm came to rest on the scratchy sheets as her face came into view again. "'M okay," she assured, smiling.

Dean looked at her and burst out laughing. Her hair, up in two buns as usual, was starting to come out and the bangs that were growing long enough to need a trim partially covered her eyes. She was grinning toothily at them, her cheeks blotched red.

"Nice."

"Your hair's messed up." Sam pointed out, grinning.

Gracie pouted, attempted to smooth her hair, before deciding it wouldn't work and pulling both buns out, letting it fall to her shoulders. As usual, it curled loosely at the ends.

Dean gently played with one of the strands, reminded of how her hair fell just like their mom's. The only difference was of course the color. But before he could get too sad, thinking about Mom, he got up. "Let's finish eating and then we you guys should probably get ready for bed. School's tomorrow."

" _You_ get to stay up." Sam argued.

"I'm older. I don't need as much sleep as you two."

Gracie wandered back to the open pizza box and took another slice. It had cooled down a lot, but she was still hungry and the pizza hit the spot.

"But you still snore. A lot. And you never wanna get up." she said around a mouthful.

"Shut it." Dean retorted, cramming a slice into his own mouth.

"Save some for Daddy." Sam reminded.

Dean's smile softened. "Yeah. Let's save some for him. Just in case he comes back early." The odds of that happening for slim, but at least for now, his brother and sister were content with that answer, and he wasn't going to push.

* * *

 **Sorry this chapter was a bit short, but like I said: filler. Next chapter will be longer. I am chomping at the bit to start doing these two year time skips every few chapters, but I keep telling myself I have to lay the groundwork. Meanwhile, I am finally beginning to catch up…I had to stop watching TV for a while because college got so rough towards the end. But now I'm free for summer and I have time for my beloved brothers and their angel~ Finally finished season 8.** **It was long overdue. Like I said, due to spoilers plastered everywhere I basically already have a rough overview of what will happen before I see it, but watching it was another thing. Benny broke my heart, guys. So did Henry for that matter. And Samandriel…god, sweet lil' Samandriel. Basically there was a lot of heartbreak happening.**

 **Not looking forward to seeing poor Kevin's fate, or demon Dean, although I know the fandom is just as obsessed with him as soulless Sam. I will probably veg out and binge through seasons 9-10 within the next week. Season 11 won't be out on dvd til September. DX But just give me something to look forward to I guess. In the meantime, I'll keep writing. Many more adventures planned for the Winchester trio (I'm not really including John since he'll be appearing less and less after a while). It'll be a rollercoaster ride of highs and lows but that's nothing new.**


	6. A Message From Upstairs

**Is it weird to anyone else that in all their cases, the Winchesters hardly have less than ideal weather conditions? Where's the snow, the heavy rainstorms, the hot as frick summer days that make them hunt shirtless?! Lol Well in the next chapter or so the Wee!chesters (collectively) experience snow for the first time. I also wrote some Gracie/random!OC mush that came completely out of left field. O.O Like I have** _ **no idea**_ **where it came from, ok? Magical, right? We're winding down on the fluff here, folks. Sam officially learns about the supernatural in a few chapters (maybe another two) and Gracie comes clean about what she saw that night. Then we're onto hunter training (get ready for drill-sergeant/semi-dick John) and steadily increasing family angst with intermingling fluff. Sound good?**

 **Could you guys** _ **please**_ **just do me a solid and try harder to drop a line instead of just following/favoriting? It's disappointing to work so hard on this and hardly get feedback. But thank you so much to those that review! It really means a lot.**

 **P.S. This chapter kind of got away from me in that I had one thing planned for the major plot elements I wanted to introduce, and yet I only managed to squeeze so much of that in. It definitely took on a life of its own in terms of the direction it took so this was the result. More plot-relevant developments next chapter, I promise.**

* * *

The minute Dean woke up to the smell of bacon he knew it was going to be a good day. He was glad that John bought more groceries and finally gave them some money before he headed out the previous night. As much as he loved Lucky Charms, after a week and a half, it was getting old. He slowly sat up and rubbed at his eyes, smacking his dry mouth.

Throwing the slightly scratchy covers off, he got out of bed and stretched with a loud groan, walking barefoot to the kitchen in his t-shirt and boxers. He glanced at the bed beside his to see Sam still curled up asleep under the covers, but his nose was twitching. Dean didn't bother to wake him up; his stomach would do the job for him, eventually. He didn't make any promises the bacon would still be there when it did though. All was fair in hunger and war.

In the kitchenette, standing on a chair, his sister made breakfast, humming an upbeat but slightly off-key rendition of Stairway to Heaven. " _You're up?_ " Dean asked groggily.

Gracie turned her attention away from the sizzling bacon on the stove top and gave him a lopsided grin that stretched her freckles. Not only was she up, she was dressed, surprisingly. In her pink t-shirt sporting a picture of puppies, covered by a blue and pink plaid shirt, denim shorts, and her favorite baseball cap turned backwards on her pigtailed head—a birthday present from Bobby—Dean thought she was looking more like a hunter-in-training these days, even if she didn't realize it.

"Early bird gets the apple!" she giggled. "Um, I think that's how that goes…"

"Definitely _not_ how that goes." Dean shuffled over to the mini fridge and pulled out a carton of milk.

"Hey, you better get a glass for that mister!" Gracie squealed narrowing her eyes as she waved a spatula at him. Dean rolled his eyes as he drank straight from the carton.

"Ew!"

"We're all family so what's the big deal?"

"It's gross and unsanitary." She lectured.

He scoffed. She was learning all about _hygiene_ in school now, so for the last week she came home reciting facts about germs and how brushing your teeth between meals was important. "So bacon, huh?" He nodded at the stove and she quickly turned back around to keep prodding the strips. "That's it?"

In the last few years, true to her word she had begun learning to cook in earnest. Whenever they were in a room with a stove or at Bobby's she would try making recipes she read about. Bobby even let her bake and she wasn't half bad at it. She made Dean a pie all by herself for his birthday.

Gracie looked offended at the suggestion that bacon was all she could make. "No! I'm making omelets and toast too." her nose scrunched. She motioned to the eggs she'd cracked in the skillet and the cheese, salt, pepper and chopped ham she had ready and waiting beside her. "But not for people who spread _germs_!"

Dean gave her a disbelieving look. "Oh c'mon! It's not like I back-washed or anything…"

"Yeah, but germs—"

"Mornin'…" the arguing siblings turned to see their brother enter the room, rubbing an eye sleepily, his bed hair and rosy cheeks making it very apparent he'd just woken up. "I smelled bacon." Sam mumbled, perking up when he saw his sister poking strips carefully in the pan.

Dean muttered under his breath, annoyed he couldn't steal Sam's share. "Hi Sammy!" Gracie called cheerfully. She plated the first omelet she finished, made the way Sam liked it and offered it to him with bacon on the side just as the toast sprung from the toaster.

Sam gave her a wide smile as he accepted his breakfast, grabbing a piece of toast on his way to the table. "Thanks Gracie. You're an awesome cook." She turned pink, giggling.

"Oh c'mon! He wakes up last and gets food first?" Dean complained. Sam sat his plate down at the small table where three rickety chairs were. Gracie was using the fourth to reach the stove.

Dean eyed the plate hungrily and Sam gave him a distrusting look.

"No way. Get your own, Dean." He got a grumpy glare in response.

"I _would_ , except apparently Gracie believes in grudges."

"I do not! That movie scares me!" she protested.

"Not what I meant—"

She interrupted her older brother while finishing the second omelet. "Don't drink the milk; Dean put his germs on it."

"Yuck Dean, Dad said it's for everybody remember?" Sam quickly grabbed the orange juice instead.

Dean rolled his eyes, ignoring his little brother as he leaned back against the table with his elbows, burning holes into Gracie's back. She had finished making the second omelet, but when he held his hands out for the plate she hopped off the chair and breezed past him to the table. Sam had already poured her a glass of juice and she sipped it gratefully.

Dean gawked. "Aren't you forgetting something?" Gracie tilted her head thoughtfully before nodding and jumping up again. Dean knew for _sure_ she was about to hand him his bacon and make his ham and cheese omelet…but she didn't head for the stove.

She snatched a piece of toast from the toaster and took it back to her chair. "Are you freaking kidding me?!" Dean howled in outrage, throwing his hands up. "You just…just—" he collapsed in his seat hard, glaring at the opposite wall. He took the glass of orange juice Sam scooted in front of him and chugged from it angrily. He slammed his empty glass down and stomped over to grab his two pieces of toast. Who cared if his little sister was being a brat to him? He didn't that was for sure. Even if those omelets looked…so good.

He bit angrily into his toast after making sure it was nice and buttered. A poke to his back and a small voice mumbling his name made him jump. Well, it would have if he didn't catch himself. Gracie was beaming up at him, the plate piled with the goodness of ham and cheese omelet and five strips of bacon held up as a peace offering. "It was always for you, ya know. I didn't mean to make you mad…" She glanced at her feet worriedly. "I just had to put somethin' else in it first."

Dean had been in the process of putting a piece of bacon to his lips when he paused, brow arched. "Like what?" he asked warily. It had been a while since Gracie had put something weird in a recipe and since Sam was still happily eating at the table he assumed it was safe, but…

Mentally he went through the list of all the times they argued recently, or the times when he'd upset her. He almost never argued with his sister the way he did with Sam so he doubted that was it. She offered him a forkful of cheesy omelet, steam still rising from the plate. She looked so sincere that he leaned down and allowed her to feed it to him. It was just as amazing as it looked. He didn't expect the kiss on the nose he got though.

"Extra love." She explained. "You were sad last night when Daddy left. My teacher said making food with lots of love makes it taste yummy and then when someone you love eats it, they feel better." The older Winchester was speechless. He had stopped questioning how Gracie knew how he felt even when no one else did, a long time ago. It was just a weird, totally Gracie thing.

The little redhead squealed as he lifted her up to put her on the counter, plate and all. "Thanks Grace," he whispered, kissing her forehead. "I do feel better, because I have a cool little sister like you." Gracie's face lit up with a mega-watt smile. She offered him another bite of eggs and he let her feed it to him.

Sam watched from the table, munching on his bacon. "Where's your food, Gracie? You only had toast."

"It's okay. I'm not that hungry." She assured him bravely. Her stomach disagreed, grumbling loudly. She ducked her head in embarrassment.

"Forgot to make one for yourself?" Dean guessed.

Gracie lifted one shoulder sheepishly in response. It wasn't like she couldn't run back over to the stove and make her own omelet. But she just didn't feel like it.

"I guess _just this once_ we can share." Dean sighed. Gracie smiled and Dean pretended to be nonchalant but he couldn't fight the rise at the corners of his lips. "Oh I forgot, I made sure Dad picked up something for you…" he got up, heading to the fridge and rummaging around after he opened it. Gracie shared a curious stare with Sam.

"Here, think fast," he called, tossing something her way. She caught it in both hands and grinned brightly when she saw what it was.

"Wow, a peach!" They were out of season and the last few states they'd been through weren't selling them.

It was Dean's turn to grin. "I know how much you like peaches so I asked Dad to be sure to get some if he could."

"Thanks Dean!" she bit into it, juice bursting over her tongue and running down her chin.

"You're making a mess," Sam giggled at her as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, still chewing.

Dean bit into a strip of bacon, settling back down at the table with his plate and handing Gracie her fork as he cut his omelet in half for them to share.

It reminded him of when the twins were babies just learning how to eat and he'd help feed them. Even as toddlers they had a habit of pushing their faces into the food and making a huge mess. The first time they had cake came vividly to his mind. "It was everywhere," he said aloud to himself, smiling at the memory of innocent faces smeared with icing.

"What?" Gracie blinked up at him, munching into her peach with gusto.

Dean threw a napkin at her face playfully. "Nothin'. Hey, how 'bout we make this interesting. Wanna make a bet?" his grin widened when he noticed he had both of their attentions. Dean sometimes gambled behind John's back at local dives to double their spending money. He had gotten pretty good at it. Part of that was because everyone underestimated a kid. Big mistake.

"What kind of bet?" Sam asked slowly.

"Last one done with breakfast does the dishes!" he cackled, shoveling into his omelet. Sam gaped.

"That's not fair!" he immediately retorted.

"Why not? You had a head start. Geez Sammy I knew you were slow but I didn't realize you were slow _that way_ too." Dean taunted, wrapping his remaining pieces of bacon up in his omelet and picking it up like a sandwich. Sam huffed, turning to complain to Gracie only to watch in slight awe as his sister steadily shoved omelet into her own mouth, carefully keeping track of how much was left on Dean's plate.

"You cheat Dean!" she said between bites. "The peach was a distraction!" It didn't stop her from eating the peach with one hand and using her fork to pick up her half of omelet with the other.

"What can I say? All's fair in love and chores." Dean didn't look the least bit sorry for the sabotage. Exploiting an opponent's weakness was a totally legal move. It was in wrestling anyway. It was probably the same with welching out of chores.

Sam hardly stood a chance as he ate as quickly as he could without choking, helplessly watching his siblings gain further ground. Eating so fast was starting to make him feel sick but they both seemed fine. They reached for their glasses of orange juice at the same time and took long gulps to chase down all the food.

"Done!" they shouted in unison. Sam groaned as his stomach protested at the way he'd forced down his food.

"Looks like it's all you, buddy." Dean stood, clapping Sam on the back as he tossed the dish in the small sink. "Make sure you scrub the grease stains out of the pain Gracie made the bacon in. Put your elbow into it." Gracie gave her twin an apologetic look.  
"Better luck next time!" she said by way of conciliation. She skipped to the sink cheerfully and put her plate down as well.

"Good breakfast Grace. You really are getting good," Dean ruffled her hair affectionately. A few strands he'd disturbed stubbornly hung over her forehead.

"Thanks! Don't mess up m' hair, Dean." She chirped, taking off her signature cap to readjust her braids and then fixing it back on her head, backwards as always. The nickname Bobby had given her a while back—"Red"—was sewn on the red cap in white.

"You never use to care about your hair so much…what's with you these days? It's not that Robby kid is it?" he asked slyly, referring to the only friend she'd manage to make in class. Somehow Sam was always better at making friends.

"His name's _Tommy_." She corrected indignantly. " _Please_ can you take me to the park after school today to meet him?" Suddenly the puppy stare was out in full force.

Dean tried to pretend he wasn't as effected as he was. "Fine," he sighed. "Just don't keep me waiting a long time. When I hang out on the elementary hall too long little girls start staring." he grumbled. "Are you coming with, Sam?"

Sam shook his head. "Can't. It's my groups turn to help at the library." Dean made a noise of understanding. He was glad he hadn't been at Twin Pines when _he_ was in elementary. The school had an initiative where students were broken into groups and made to do mandatory community service around the school.

Helping the lunch ladies clean up the cafeteria, sorting the books in the library, cleaning the classroom, crap that Dean just wasn't interested in. Luckily middle school students were exempt. The school chores only effected the elementary students.

"Your luck sucks." Dean told his little brother. "That's like the second week in a row your group got picked."

Sam shrugged. "It's not so bad…if we finish early Ms. Hutchinson lets us do our homework."

Dean made a face. "Please tell me how you're my brother."

The eldest Winchester child left the room to get ready for school, since it was obvious Gracie had already showered and done her morning routine. He glanced over his shoulder to see Sam still sitting at the table, taking slow sips of juice, clutching his stomach with one hand and staring glumly at his half-finished plate. Dean chuckled at the fact that Sam was probably bloated now.

"Hey Sammy better hurry up and finish or you'll get a tardy."

A mumbled "shut up Dean," followed by a long groan of pain was his answer. He snickered when he heard the thunk of Sam's head hitting the table. He heard Gracie offering to help him do the dishes anyway before the bathroom door shutting cut off the conversation.

* * *

"Nervous?" Dean teased.

Gracie gave him a strange look. "No, why would I be? Tommy's my friend."

Dean rolled his eyes. His sister still didn't get what he was implying. "You are _no fun_ sometimes, you know that?"

"Nu-uh. I'm tons of fun." she responded absently while keeping an eye out for her friend.

"Maybe he stood you up?" Dean offered unhelpfully.

"Sssh!" she told him, lighting up when she spotted a familiar blonde making his way across the park his chin tucked into his chest and his arms wrapped around himself as he power-walked past the jungle gym.

"Tommy!" she called, waving. His head lifted and he offered a cautious smile that grew more relaxed the closer he got to them.

"Great, I always wanted to spend my time chaperoning a date between two seven-year olds…" Dean sighed loudly.

"Almost eight!" Gracie called behind her, sticking her tongue out at him as she ran the rest of the way to meet her friend.

Dean waved dismissively. "Yeah, yeah."

He watched Gracie greet her friend with gusto, hugging the jumpy little boy. Dean wasn't really sure what his sister saw in him. Tommy was the kind of kid he'd expect to grow up into a paranoid basket case, living in a secret bunker.

The two of them walked slowly to the swings, shoulders bumping occasionally as they chatted about whatever seven-going-on-eight year olds found interesting. Dean found a bench and pulled out a comic to read while he waited.

"Want me to push you?" Tommy asked meekly, nodding at the swing.

"I could push you," Gracie offered at the same time.

They looked at each other and started laughing.

"We'll take turns." She smiled.

"Okay but you first."

Gracie got on the swing as Tommy walked behind her and gave her back several light shoves.

"I'm not gonna go high if you push like thaa—" She began furiously pumping her legs as Tommy pushed harder. Squealing, in both adrenaline and glee she happily worked her legs as he pushed.

"You know," Tommy started, still pushing with all his strength. "I'm not good at…making friends so much. And we move a lot. Cause of my mom and dad being in the Army…" Gracie glanced at him over her shoulder with a kind smile.

Tommy was an Army brat and he understood more than anybody she ever met what it was like to move around so much. They started at Twin Pines Elementary around the same time. That was how they became good friends so fast.

She had told Tommy the one thing she had never told anyone else. They moved a lot and their dad wasn't always there. Her big brother took care of them. Tommy promised not to tell anyone, and she had promised to be his friend.

Sometimes he was shy but Gracie didn't mind. Tommy was really nice once he opened up. Dean always wiggled his eyebrows and sang about how " _Tommy likes Gracie_ ", much to his sister's annoyance and Sam and John's amusement. She insisted that _of course_ he liked her, because they were friends, and Dean would roll his eyes.

"I dunno how long we'll be here but my Dad said hopefully a while. Anyway, I'm just really, really glad I met you, Gracie."

"I'm glad I met you too, Tommy." She replied. When she came back toward Tommy instead of pushing her up again he grabbed the chains as hard as he could and dug his feet into the dirt. Gracie jerked forward at the sudden stop, her hair falling into her face. "Hey! Why'd you stop pushing? Do you want a turn now?"

"Um, that's not why…"

She looked back at her friend and Tommy looked as nervous as she'd ever seen him. "What's wrong, you look kinda si—" The little boy clumsily leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on her cheek.

His face was red as an apple and he wouldn't look her in the eyes. "I just…I just wanted to do that."

"Oh." She breathed, not sure what to say. "I, um…it's your turn now." She got off the swing before he could say anything, feeling like her legs were jelly. Her whole face felt warm. She knew her face must match Tommy's. He sat down on the swing with a plunk, fidgeting, and Gracie chuckled awkwardly.

"Kick your legs, remember?" She said when he didn't do anything to help get himself any higher. His knuckles had the chains in an iron grip.

"Yeah," he whispered, kicking slowly. "I'm sorry, please don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you."

"So you're okay t-that I like you-like you?" Honestly, girls and boys liking each other _that_ way was still pretty new to her. She heard the girls in class giggling about who they _like-liked_ but she and Sam had been pretty oblivious. Boys were either mean like Jimmy or sweet like Tommy in her experience. But she never thought about who she like-liked, or if someone would ever like her.

"I'm okay with it as long as you'll still be my friend." His back was still to her but Tommy sighed heavily and she couldn't tell if he was disappointed or relieved.

"Yeah, we'll always be friends. You're my best friend." He mumbled. "Here," he fished into his pocket, keeping one hand on the chain. What he pulled out was a crumpled bracelet that he made at art time the other day.

The one all the other boys picked on him for making. "It's for you. Will you keep it?" Gracie accepted the gift with reverence and slipped it around her small wrist.

"Then you can have the one I made." And she pulled her own green and pink bracelet from the opposite wrist and gave it to Tommy just as delicately. The smile she gave him lit up his whole face like she had never seen. He looked like a completely different little boy than her shy friend.

"Thanks Gracie. Now we'll always sorta be together."

It warmed her heart to see him so happy. When her fingers had brushed his palm the affection she felt from him curled around her like a purring cat.  
"Hey Gracie! Let's go! We gotta get Sam." Dean called, standing up from his seat and tucking his comic book away.

"Okay!" she called back, slightly disappointed her fun with Tommy was ending. She turned back to him with a reassuring grin. "See ya tomorrow!" she waved.

Tommy stood up from his swing and looked at a blonde woman who was walking to them from the park's parking lot, talking on a cell phone. Gracie knew it was Tommy's mom by the way his eyes brightened even more when he saw her. Not to mention they looked alike.

Of course after they got Sam and John picked them up, Dean was bugging her the whole way back to the motel. "So, how'd it go?" he asked with a mischievous smile.

"Dean," John sighed, "Stop teasing your sister."

Sam looked at Gracie who was staring down at the bracelet on her wrist, her face slightly pink.

"You okay?"

"Huh?" she jolted in alarm, her gray eyes wide.

"I-I'm okay…"

Sam narrowed his eyes in thought as he picked up her wrist and studied it. He observantly noticed that the bracelet was not in the same color-scheme the one his sister had made was. "Hey, this isn't your bracelet?" Gracie practically lived in pink or green, both when she could. The light blue and pink bracelet reminded him of cotton candy—sweet and cheerful. Even though it wasn't in her favorite colors, the bracelet was still oddly Gracie-like in a way that bothered him for a reason he couldn't explain.

Ignoring the confusion and annoyance that flowed into her from Sam, she pulled her hand back and held it to her chest protectively. "Tommy gave it to me. We traded." Sam blinked. How did Tommy know his sister so well? He was her _twin_. _He_ was supposed to be the one that knew every little thing about her.

Dean half turned in his seat to look back at them. "Wait, what?"

"Do I need to have a talk with this Tommy boy?" John asked lowly. It was hard to tell if he was serious or not. He didn't show it, but deep down John Winchester was not a man ready to let go. His only daughter, his baby girl, could _not_ start liking boys yet. Even if it was just a puppy crush. That was where it all started.

"He's just my friend, Daddy." Gracie insisted.

"Yeah, then why'd he give you a bracelet?" Dean pushed. "That's not what _just_ _friends_ do." He continued mockingly. "Unless they're chicks. Chicks give each other friendship bracelets. Guys give girls _I-like-you_ bracelets."

"You're awfully knowledgeable about all this son." John commented, eyeing him sideways before focusing on the road again.

Dean shrugged. "I'm twelve now. I know things."

"Well, he said he like-liked me, but I said we could just keep being friends." she admitted timidly.

Dean was torn between wanting to throttle Tommy and being proud of his sister, who had unwittingly delivered her first rejection.

"Gracie, you've got all the time in the world to start liking boys." John assured though mentally he thought if she never batted her eye at a boy he wouldn't mind. "Don't worry about that for now. Just be a kid. And if that boy gets too pushy you tell me."

Gracie swallowed. Her father was normally intimidating but he sounded downright deadly suddenly.

The awkwardness of Gracie getting her first confession didn't really pass that night, or even the next day. She went to bed with Dean warning her that if Tommy didn't keep his hands to himself he wouldn't have hands to worry about keeping away from her. Gracie wanted to believe he was just joking but the switchblade Dean "secretly" slept with under his pillow said otherwise.

She drifted off next to Sam, who had strangely fallen asleep with his hand holding the wrist with Tommy's bracelet on it.

Gracie woke up on a playground she hadn't seen in years. The sandbox area and swing set were surrounded by a low green picket fence, just like she remembered, and the large open field where she'd clumsily run with her brothers stretched out before her eyes.

She couldn't remember how she got there or why she wasn't in the pajamas she went to sleep in. She looked down and she was in her old favorite pair of denim overalls. The ones with the pink kitty pocket. She slowly ran her hand down the front of her chest, she hadn't worn these since she was…well, really little. How did they suddenly fit again?

"What am I doing here?" she whispered to no one.

"I brought you to one of your favorite memories so we could talk." She whirled around, suddenly confronted with a brown-skinned man with graying hair and a beard who had a gentle voice.

"Hello Gracelyn Winchester—well, it's usually Gracie isn't it? I'm Joshua." He reached out a hand to her, and despite the fact that she was told not to talk to strangers repeatedly by her father and brother, she tentatively reached her smaller hand back to him. He shook it with a smile.

"Mr. Joshua, why are we at the park? I was asleep in our room and if Daddy gets back and I'm not there he'll be really mad—"

"It's alright." Joshua replied calmly. "Your body hasn't left your motel room. You're in a very deep sleep right now."

"So you're just part of my dream?" she asked, her nose scrunching in confusion.

He chuckled. "This world around us is a dream, yes. But I came here under the request of…a higher power. So no, I'm not a dream."

Gracie tensed, withdrawing her hand from his quickly. "You're _real_? Are you…a monster? Like the one that tried to get my brother?"

Joshua's face became sympathetic as he raised his hands to placate her. "No Gracie, not a monster. An angel." Her eyes widened in stunned silence as the silhouette of large wings unfolded behind him. "Think hard, you know what angels are don't you?" his question sounded more like a statement. Gracie realized he was right. She did know about angels. She had dreamed about them before, years ago, or so she thought. Yet how did she know what they were? No one ever told her.

"You retain vague information from your past life. But not much. Not in your human form." Joshua continued. Gracie continued staring in confusing. It was all going over her head now. "Being reborn a Winchester. It's quite amusing, not at all the purpose He had intended for you." Joshua looked saddened and Gracie quietly took his hand again to offer comfort.

Joshua was slightly surprised to feel a calming aura pulse through him. "So you still have your empathic abilities? I'm sure they'll serve you well."

"I don't think I know what you mean mister, but I don't think you're a bad angel-person." She said at last. "I don't like seeing people sad."

"Yes, you always were one of the kindest among us…" he sighed. "Perhaps it's only right you live among them as a human, though this life won't be much easier for you, I'm afraid."

She tilted her head as they walked along, hand in hand, angel and little girl. "Huh?"

"Those Winchesters have quite the destiny and now you're caught up in it. I'm sorry." Joshua said. "For now, all you have to do is keep an eye out for them. Especially Sam."

She looked up at him in alarm. "Sammy?"

The angel looked troubled at the very mention of her brother. "That boy…" Joshua didn't finish, just shook his head and sighed heavily like it was bad news she couldn't know. "He's entrusted me to come to you and guide you through dreams. None of the other angels know about your rebirth as Gracie Winchester. You were lost to them long ago. He has a new destiny written for you. You'll learn everything you need to, in time. For now, I think they're calling you." Joshua smiled and placed a hand on top of her head before she could speak.

The next thing she knew her eyes were fluttering open and her brothers' faces were hovering over hers. Sam was sitting on his knees, his palms flat on the bed as he leaned over her. Dean was standing at the side of the bed, invading her personal space. "Geez Gracie, gonna sleep all day? Let's go, up." Dean said, yanking the covers off her.

She moaned in protest and tried to cover her head with the pillow but he took that away too. She sat up on her elbows and pouted grumpily at him. " _What_ Dean? _It's Saturday_!" she punctuated her huff with a smack to his hand as he tried to pinch her red cheek.

"Um _yeah_ , as in the Saturday Dad said he'd take us to see the Cubs play the Yankees! Do you know how long I've been waiting for this? Go hurry up and get ready." Dean continued to poke, prod and push until she was ready to bite him. She gathered a bundle of clean clothes from her bag and marched into the little bathroom, setting them down on the toilet seat lid.

While she washed her face and brushed her teeth, she thought about the fuzzy pieces of her dream she could vaguely remember. She was somewhere she'd been before…and she met someone she didn't know, but he felt like he was safe. And he told her something important…. It wasn't until after she was fumbling to get her shirt over her head that a name came back to her.

"Joshua…" That was his name.

She ran a brush through her still-damp hair, the normally orange strands looking darker wet. There was a loud knock, followed by Dean telling her "move your butt".

"Stop _yelling_!" she yelled back.

She could practically see him snorting at her hypocrisy on the other side of the door and it made her giggle. She opened the door a crack and made a show of peeking around the edge before Dean snatched it open and scooted her out. She wandered out into the small space that held a few uncomfortable chairs and a TV, passing as the living room.

It was one of the slightly larger rooms they'd had in the past few months. She found Sam sitting in one those chairs, eating a bowl of cereal and lazily watching morning cartoons. "We coulda just watched from here..." he mumbled, eyes still on the TV screen.

Gracie shrugged. It wasn't like she didn't like sports, but she also barely knew anything about baseball. Just the things Dean told her when she watched a game with him. She plunked herself in another seat and watched Bugs Bunny outsmart Daffy Duck yet again as they waited for Dean to finish in the bathroom. Sometime, during the second commercial, John came out of his bedroom, looking around and noticing one kid missing.

"We still waiting on your brother?" Sam and Gracie nodded slowly in unison, practically zombie slaves to the TV commercial advertising the newest toy of the season. John walked to the bathroom door and knocked. "We're ready to go Dean. What're you doin' in there, son?" Dean scurried out of the bathroom a minute later, fully clothed and with slightly damp hair, a towel slung around his neck.

"Ready, Dad!"

"Good, go wait by the car." Dean all but flew out of the motel room, grinning widely. Sam and Gracie shared a look. Guessing it was time to go, Sam turned the TV off with the remote and they stood to follow their older brother out the door, John following close behind. Dean was practically bouncing on his heels when they got outside, sliding in eagerly when John unlocked the door.

The twins climbed into their usual spots in the back and got buckled in. They were already in upstate New York, so the ride wouldn't be long, but John had decided they'd set out early to account for the possible traffic.

Thirty minutes into Dean rambling about both teams' stats and Gracie was already bored. Her thoughts drifted back to the stranger in her dream. Joshua. He said he was an angel...didn't he? And she believed him. Some part of her said he wasn't lying.

She tried to remember what else he said to her, because she had a feeling it was important, but that part was still fuzzy. She glanced at Sam, who was busy sticking one of his little green army men in the ashtray in boredom. Something about Sam...or was it Dean?

Gracie sat there quietly, pushing herself to remember. In the end, only one sentence really returned to her by the time they reached the stadium: " _Those Winchesters have quite the destiny and now you're caught up in it. I'm sorry._ "

* * *

 **Can I just say I** _ **love**_ **that Gracie's an empath. I mean I know I made her one, but it's just so fun to write a character that feels emotion even if she doesn't realize that right now. So everyone gets that she's kind of subconsciously honing in on emotions from those in close proximity to her because she can't control it, right? Touching someone makes their emotions flow directly into her as if they're her own. Especially if they feel it strongly. Otherwise it's kind of like she's just picking up "waves of emotions" in the air constantly. Is it because she use to be an angel or because she's just a special human case, like the natural-born psychics in the show? I dunno, stay tuned to find out. ;)**

 **I have to tell you guys, the more of this story I write the more I get excited for the future of our three Winchesters because…this story is everything! Or it will be, trust me. ;) Romance, angst, the power of family, of course crazy hunting shenanigans…you know, normal Supernatural stuff. I can't take credit for putting those all into the mixing bowl because really they were already there. But I'm putting my** _ **own**_ **spin on the original recipe. Starting with Gracie and continuing with *eyes light up* all kinds of fantubulous things~ Just wait and see! I promise you likely won't be disappointed. It'll definitely still stay true to the Supernatural we all love, nothing crazy (well nothing out of** _ **place**_ **crazy like….uh, you know what? It probably speaks to the brilliance of this show that I can't think of anything crazy I could throw at the Winchesters in this story that couldn't be made plausible in some way… lmao), but let's just say following the Winchesters through childhood to adulthood is going to be really, really fun. Fun to write and to read.**

 **P.S. Recently, due to Hurricane Matthew effecting the southeast US I had to leave the comfort of my house, and uproot my life for a few long and stressful days when my family and 4 pets evacuated to safety. All we could on such short notice were two rooms at a less than stellar motel, and the one I shared with my grandma was cramped and dingy. Needless to say I can now totally sympathize with Sam and Dean being bustled around from place to place and why Dean probably use to be climbing the walls. OMG! I mean usually when we travel we leave the pets somewhere and stay in a 4-5 star hotel so you can imagine my utter disdain…Anyway, glad I'm back in my own room and that nightmare is over. If you liked this chapter or want to read more, please review (damnit!). Sorry, that last bit was my wayward muse telling me I better get some feedback for inspiration if I want it to stick around. :O**


	7. Clumsy

**I finished season 10 shortly after I started this chapter (and now I'm done with season 11 too and rewatching my favorite episodes from the earlier seasons)—I should mention I normally don't get to watch episodes as they air because 1) I only started Supernatural like 2 years ago so I was playing catch up this whole time. 2) I'm a grad student now so my schedule can get hectic and I don't always have time to follow TV shows… 3) I really do prefer to just collect the seasons on DVD and binge watch. No commercial interruptions and no being strung along in suspense week by week. Hehe—…I don't think the ending of a season has had me tied up in so many knots for a while now. Since maybe 5-6 at least. I got unexpectedly, inexplicably emotional. It could've been because of Charlie though; that hurt even though I knew it was coming (nobody keeps their spoilers in the pants anymore, do they?). But I think the part that upset me the most was the whole showdown with the Stynes in the bunker and Dean's decision about Cyrus Styne. My heart went out to that kid. Why'd they give us backstory on him and then give him such a fate? Ok I'm trying to be vague here because a friend of mine is reading this story and hasn't gotten that far yet, but anyway.**

 **That seriously upset me and I was super angry at Dean. Lol I literally had to calm myself down after that before I could keep writing this because all I kept thinking was "A plague! A plague upon your house, Dean Winchester!" XD Not sure why I got so attached to Cyrus Styne in such a short time but I did. I even wrote a chapter around that episode based in season 10 with an alternate, though still kind of dramatic, angsty ending. But Gracie was there to save the day for poor Cyrus which was all I really wanted anyway. Then I couldn't find the damn thing! My computer deleted it and I can't find it anywhere so I'm rewriting the scene and hoping I can capture the original angst of the first one I wrote while it's still fairly fresh. So look forward to that way down the road I guess.**

 **Anyway, I'll say up front I'm not sure how closely I will follow certain events of canon once I get into the actual seasons. This is all just pre-series event-building right now after all. So for example, certain characters that are supposed to die may not if I think they serve a greater purpose for the story. Others, like say John….yeah that probably won't change at all. Sorry John fans. I don't hate the guy per say but I have to do it. But just stick around and you'll see what I mean when the time comes. In the meantime, you've got this. Chapter 7!**

* * *

Bobby Singer carefully stirred the ladle through the pot of soup, putting it up to his lips and tasting it. "Needs…something." He muttered to himself.

"Hey Bobby, almost chow time? I'm _starved_." The hunter straightened himself and glanced behind him to see Dean Winchester stroll into the kitchen with a wide grin.

He rolled his eyes. "Boy, you're always 'starved'. You got tapeworms in that gut o' yours?"

Dean looked thoughtful. "Don't think so. Just a growing, _hungry_ boy." He emphasized, rubbing his stomach with a pitiful look.

"Yeah, yeah, come over here and taste this." Dean eagerly hurried to his side and accepted the spoonful of chowder. Bobby waited until Dean had gulped down his spoonful, looking at him expectantly. "Well, what's it need?"

"Um, pinch of salt. Maybe some, uh, vinegar?"

Bobby made a face of disgust. "Vinegar in daggum chowder?"

Dean held up his hands defensively. "Crap Bobby, you know if you want someone that knows this stuff you should ask Gracie."

"Right. Shoulda figured your sister would know from the start instead of asking some hungry idjit."

"Hey! You know I help her learn new recipes all the time." Dean defended himself. "It's just that she's gotten so good at cooking…I guess I started to stop worrying about finding stuff to make that Sam and Gracie would actually eat."

Bobby shook his head. "Shame. Usin' your little sister as a personal servant."

"Hey whoa, she likes helping. It helps her practice her reading skills and she gets to do something that makes her feel closer to Mom. Plus it just happens that for an eight year old she's really good at it. What's wrong with that? Not to mention, I like to taste test as much as she likes to shove plates of food in my face. It's a good arrangement we got."

"Just go get yer sister and tell her to come here, ya dingbat."

"Roger Wilco." Dean mock saluted. "Where is she?"

"Last I saw, out in the junkyard with Maximus." Bobby glanced out the kitchen window and could barely make out bright red hair in the distance and a big, dark dog. "Further in than I told her she could go though. Max'll keep 'er safe, but go check up on her anyway."

Dean jogged out of the house and took the rickety steps in two jumps, rounding the side of the house into the salvage yard, where practically all the rusty old cars Bobby had accumulated were unsalvageable, as far as he could tell.

His feet crunched against the gravel as he cupped his hands to his mouth. "Hey, Gracie! Bobby needs your help. Sooner you tell him what the chowder needs, sooner we can eat." There was no sign she'd heard him at all. But he could hear _her_ voice up in the distance. That was when he noticed Sam perched on a stack of half-flat tires, Gracie standing on the hood of a car directly in front of him.

"Gra—"

"Weeeee are the champioooons, my friiiiieeeeends!" she sang loudly, playing air guitar. "And we'll keep on fighting til the eeeend!" Gracie spread her arms and sang toward the sky, Max howling along. Dean watched in amusement from behind a junked Oldsmobile. It wasn't really a secret his sister was borderline obsessed with Queen and their lead singer.

"We are the champions, we are the champions! No time for losers 'cause we are champions…" she paused dramatically. "Of the woooorrrld!" Apparently he'd caught the end of her performance.

She took several bows from the waist while Sam clapped enthusiastically and Maximus barked, his tail wagging. "Thank you, you were a beautiful audience!"

Dean decided to make himself known. Might as well get her off the car before she slipped. "Nice chops, kid." Gracie turned around in surprise, jumping when Dean seemed to appear from nowhere. She yelped, suddenly slipping and almost falling backwards. Dean rushed into big brother mode, running over and securing his arms around her waist to drag her down. "Okay, see, this is why you should invite me to your concerts. You take a dive like that off stage and I don't think you'll be crowd-surfing anytime soon." he half-joked, setting her down.

Gracie blushed, mumbling quietly.

"Sorry didn't catch that." Dean held a hand to his ear as Sam walked over with Maximus. "Was that 'thanks Dean'?"

She looked up. " _I said_ you weren't supposed to see that…"

Dean smirked playfully. "Why not? You let Sam come to your shows but I'm banned?"

"Well…I know _Sam_ won't tell me how bad I sing," she explained, waving a hand at their brother. Sam, for his part, looked confused and mildly offended his sister was implying that he was just trying not to hurt her feelings. "But you and Daddy love rock so, I don't wanna mess up in front of you."

Dean was intrigued. "You sing classic rock a lot then?"

Gracie shrugged bashfully. "Yeah,"

Dean smiled in reminiscence. "When you were babies sometimes I'd go sing you to sleep with rock songs when you cried while Dad was passed out." There had been many times during their infancy when John would simply be too tired to tend to the babies and it was left to Dean.

Sam tilted his head. "I think I sort of remember that…kind of."

"How come you sang us rock songs?" Gracie wondered.

"Mom sang me 'Hey Jude' all the time when I couldn't sleep." Dean had a wistful smile. "She had the prettiest voice. Use to put me right to sleep."

"I wish we knew her…" Sam sighed sadly. "Dean…will you tell us about her more…please?" Dean wanted to groan. He had made the mistake of giving Sam an opening. His little brother was looking at him with large, hopeful eyes. He turned to Gracie, only to see she was mirroring Sam's expression perfectly. Two pairs of eyes were begging him.

"Yeah, okay! Fine! Just stop…doing that." The twins grinned brightly at him.

"Now let's go inside. Bobby wants Gracie to help him with the chowder and I wanna eat sometime today."

"You're _always_ hungry." Sam grumbled. "No wonder Uncle Bobby thinks you got worms…"

Dean cut a look at his little brother. "You say something?"

Sam turned away innocently and the three siblings walked back toward the house in comfortable silence.

Max plodded dutifully along behind them. When they reached the back steps, Dean hooked the large dog back up to his chain. He whimpered slightly. "Sorry boy, but you know the drill. You gotta stay out here. Bobby's rules."

He patted the dog's side while his brother and sister took turns hugging the brute of an animal around the neck. Visiting with Max was the closest the kids had to a pet of their own, as much as Sam had begged John over the years.

"Okay, okay." Bobby appeared at the back door, sighing. "Spoil 'im anymore and he ain't gonna be much use as a yard dog. Don't need ya turnin' my guard dog soft." he scolded gently, ushering them in the house. "Now, everybody wash up and Gracie you can come with me and tell me what this chowder needs. Can't put my finger on it and it's makin' my brain itch."

Sam and Dean raced upstairs to use the upstairs bathroom and Gracie followed Bobby to the kitchen, washing her hands at the sink and then accepting a spoonful of the chunky potato and corn chowder. "Mm…it's good. But maybe some more cheese and…chopped onions."

The hunter paused in thought before taking an onion and starting to cut while Gracie sprinkled in more shredded cheese. "Uncle Bobby…can I ask you somethin'?" she asked softly.

"All ears Grace."

"How can I get a job?"

Bobby looked over curiously to see Grace staring into the pot intently. "A job? What made ya think ya needed one?"

"Molly Cooper says her big sister babysits to get Christmas money." she explained.

"Uh-huh." Bobby grunted. "So that's what it is, ya want some spendin' money for the holidays? Grace, ya know it's only October."

Gracie looked up at him with big eyes. "Molly's sister said this is the best time to get seasonal sales, before corporate America's greed makes them drive up the prices before the holidays in an effort to gouge out the eyes of the unassuming consumer." She said innocently.

Bobby's jaw dropped as he looked at the eight-year old. "Do you have a clue what any of that means?"

"No. But Molly says her sister's smart. She's in the special advanced class at her school."

"Special, huh?" Bobby muttered under his breath. To the expectant child he tried to patiently explain the issue. "I understand where yer comin' from and I think it's a real nice gesture wantin' to get your brothers and daddy some nice things for Christmas, but I just don't see Macy's puttin' a third-grader on the payroll."

"But—" Gracie started.

"Not to mention, I'm not sure someone that still _needs_ a babysitter is gonna get to do the babysittin'." In a normal family a kid Gracie's age might be able to do her chores for pocket change, but Bobby didn't see John rewarding his kids for doing what he already expected of them. From what Dean told them they got enough money for food while he was away and that was it.

Gracie deflated. She knew it was a long shot but when she heard how proud Molly was of her sister and how in the past kids at school always talked about the big Christmas dinners and presents under the tree that the Winchesters never had, she felt like she was missing out. Passing out gifts at home like the other kids in class made her feel like she had a chance to be normal. Not a weirdo like Jimmy had once said she was. That name had burned itself into her mind that day. She had never shaken off the feeling that maybe…Jimmy was right. No other kids had lives like they did. That made her a freak.

Bobby picked up on her shift in mood and glanced around thoughtfully. " 'Course…I guess I could use some help around here from time to time." Gracie picked her head. "If ya catch my drift." He winked and watched her pouty lips slowly work their way into a happy, dimpled smile.

"Really?" she breathed as if she was afraid it was too good to be true. "You'll let me help you…for Christmas money?"

"Why not? Plenty around here that could use dustin'." Bobby nodded. Gracie suddenly threw her arms around his middle in a tight hug and Bobby wondered when he'd turn into such a mush-ball. The kids practically had him wrapped around their little fingers and they weren't even his!

"I want it to be a surprise, so don't tell Dean and Sammy!" Gracie said, motioning with her fingers like she was pulling a zipper across her lips.

"Cross my heart." Bobby agreed solemnly. "Now, let's get this supper done before yer brother chews his own arm off in hunger." he smirked, tossing in the onions he'd finished chopping and stirring the chowder again.

Gracie laughed and went to set the table. Sam and Dean chose that moment to come thundering down the stairs, and Bobby gave Gracie one final wink to let her know her secret was safe. Dinner after that went as it usually did, Dean scarfing down his food and burning his tongue in the process, Sam and Gracie chattering to each other, and Bobby scolding Dean for wolfing his food down and nearly choking.

Innocent moments eating dinner at Bobby's table were as close to "normal" family meals as the kids ever got. Normally it was takeout on their laps in a stuffy motel room. And as much as Gracie liked to practice reading with cook books and try to make recipes for her family, she decided she liked this even more.

Everyone was together. Well, almost everyone…if John was there too. But Daddy was busy, because Daddy was always busy. As long as he didn't come home bleeding again…

"Hey, earth to Gracie." Dean called. She looked up to see that all eyes were on her. She blushed brightly, realizing that everyone was done eating, including her, and she had been staring off into space.

"We're gonna watch some of the movies we rented!" Sam graciously filled her in on what she'd missed. "We just gotta clean up first." He stood, collecting her bowl with his and Dean's and giving it to Bobby, who threw the dirty dishes in the sink.

"Ah, I'll get 'em done. You kids go on and pick out a movie."

"Aren't you gonna watch with us, Bobby?" Dean asked.

"Wish I could. But uh, I've got a few phone calls to make." he thumbed backward at his study. The one John always holed up in when he was over.

Dean shrugged, running to get the movies they had rented and returning with a small stack that he set down near the VCR in the living room. Sam and Gracie had already made themselves comfortable there. "Okay, so what are we watching first?"

"The Princess Bride!" Gracie immediately chirped. Dean made a face at the suggestion digging through the pile and finding the movie.

"No way. This is the definition of a chick-flick." He turned to his brother, hoping for backup. "Sam? What're we watching?"

His little brother shrugged. "I dunno. We could watch The Princess Bride first if Gracie wants t—"

"What part of _chick flick_ don't you understand, Sam?"

Gracie huffed indignantly. "Well then what do _you_ wanna watch Dean?" she snipped.

Dean looked through their other choices. The Land Before Time. _No_. Indiana Jones: Raiders of the Lost Ark. _Seen it._ Ferris Bueller's Day Off. _Snuck that in while Bobby wasn't looking._ Back to the Future. _Eh._ The Labyrinth. _It has Bowie but it also has puppets._

"Ok look. We're obviously not getting through all these tonight. So we'll start by watching this one." He held up Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

Sam squinted at it. "I thought that one has bad words in it?"

"Well yeah, maybe a couple but it's really—"

"But you _always_ pick movies, Dean. I wanna pick this time!" Gracie complained.

"I don't _always_ pick the movies!" Dean protested. "Right, Sam?"

Sam gave him an innocent expression and Dean glared at the betrayal.

"Ok fine." He threw up his arms. "We'll watch a chick-flick, happy?"

"Nope. I changed my mind. I wanna see The Labyrinth!" she was up and shoving the video into the VCR before they could blink.

Sam settled on the shabby carpet in front of the TV. Gracie sat beside him, legs criss-crossed and hands in her lap.

"Gracie are you sure?" Dean looked down at her skeptically from the couch.

"You said I could pick, didn't you?" she asked in annoyance.

"It's not that. It's that you get scared really easy. You'll probably watch this and get nightmares."

Dean laughed as he wiggled his fingers at her and Gracie stared defiantly. "Will not!"

"Wanna bet?"

She stubbornly directed her attention back at the screen as the movie started. Dean rolled his eyes at her behavior as they watched a teenage girl in a dress reciting lines by herself in the park.

"This isn't scary." Gracie stated triumphantly.

"Uh-huh." Dean responded noncommittally. He had caught glimpses of the movie when he was flipping through channels in their motel room a while back. It hadn't scared him, but he wasn't the one that still needed someone to check for monsters in the closet at night.

Then again Gracie had no idea there was actually a good reason to check for monsters in the closet and under the bed. It was just a common childhood phase she was going through, mistaking shadows for monsters. If she knew they were real the movie would _really_ freak her out.

They watched as moody Sarah angrily wished her brother away to the goblins.

"Look!" Sam whispered, eyes wide. The Goblin King had appeared in all his sparkly glory to taunt Sarah and offer her a chance to win her brother back.

Gracie had scooted closer to Sam without anyone realizing it, biting her lip. The thought of there being a land for monsters that kids could get kidnapped and taken to was horrifying.

And it was that thought that stayed with her long after the movie was over and she was under the covers, staring at the ceiling. Too scared to go to sleep, she rolled over to see Sam sleeping peacefully. Sam didn't know monsters were real. Of course he wouldn't be scared. The room suddenly felt too large, too dark… As quietly but quickly as possible she got out of bed and tip-toed to the door. Glancing back to see Sam hadn't even stirred. She made her way down the hall to a door on the left that was cracked open. She pushed on it gently and made her way into the room to see Dean sprawled on top of the covers, snoring and grumbling in his sleep. Grace briefly made a face. Dean was having a good sleep, so he was probably drooling too.

She watched him sleep for a little while, inching her way to his bedside so she was standing over him. The little redhead fidgeted with her fingers before gently touching her brother's shoulder. "Dean…are you awake?"

Dean mumbled before rolling over onto his stomach. Not giving up, Grace put both hands in the middle of his back and gently began shaking.

"Dean? Dean?"

When he didn't respond she resorted to smacking his back. Hard.

He shot up, one hand wrapped around the handle of his switchblade and holding it out at her. Gracie squealed, following backwards to the ground.

It took Dean a minute to get his bearings. He turned on the lamp. " _Gracie_?!"

"I can't slee—I-I got scared!" she whined.

"Oh Gracie," Dean groaned, waking up slowly. Carefully flipping the switchblade down again and stashing it back under his pillow he addressed his scared sister. "I told you that movie would scare you. You should have just stuck to the dumb chick-flick." Climbing to her feet, she stared at him.

"What?" he asked, lying on his back with his arms folded behind his head.

"Can I...um…?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Just say it!" But she didn't just say it, she dove onto the bed, landing on Dean's chest and knocking the wind out of him. "Oomph! Ouch!"

Grace slowly shimmied until she was comfortable, sprawled across Dean with her head on his chest. "Would you give me to the Goblin King?" she asked in a hushed, concerned voice. Dean's first instinct was to make a joke about the benefits he'd have if he were an only child. But then he noticed Gracie was actually shaking.

"Are you kidding? You think I keep this blade under my pillow just to protect me?" Gracie lifted her head to give him a slow, sleepy smile. Dean sighed, resigning himself to spending the rest of the night on his back pushing hair out of his face.

"Go to sleep, Grace." He absently petted the soft hair under his fingers. _'I guess watching the chick-flick with her tomorrow wouldn't be_ so _bad._ ' he thought sleepily. ' _Man_ , _I'm so soft_.' He mentally berated himself as he drifted off. Gracie had stopped fighting sleep almost the minute her head was pillowed on his chest. He could hear her soft breathing in the dark.

They slept peacefully, no more nightmares of being whisked away to the Goblin Kingdom haunting the younger Winchester.

The sun was streaming through the gauzy window curtain the next morning, and with the weight of an eight-year old still planted firmly on his chest to pin him down, Dean found himself unable to roll away from it. He groaned turning his neck the other way as much as possible, even though he got a face full of bright red that tickled his nose and cheeks. Gracie had stayed determinedly cuddled as close to him as possible through the night, but she must have scooted up his body, since her head fell just under his chin.

Dean stared blankly up at the ceiling, willing the stupid sun to go shrivel up and die. It seemed to be shining smugly in his face.

"Dean?" he heard his little brother's confused voice from the hall as Sam plodded into the room. "Have you seen Gracie? She's—"

"Sleeping on me." He finished.

Sam stopped rubbing his eyes and blinked, perking up at the sight of his missing sister curled on top of Dean fast asleep. "Oh! She was with me when I feel asleep…"

Dean slowly got his elbows under him enough to sit up slightly. Gracie wasn't heavy. Far from it. But he figured he'd let her catch a few more z's before he woke her up.

"Yeah, well…apparently the only place safe from goblins and the sparkly douche that rules them was in here."

Sam mulled the thought over. "So she _was_ scared of the movie?"

"Yep. Had to act tough though. Until it was bed time." Dean sighed. "Little help?" he motioned down to Gracie and Sam slowly approached. Dean managed to push her back by her shoulders, her head rolling slightly to the side as she started to stir.

"Gracie, time to wake up," Sam whispered.

Dean gave him a doubtful face. "Are you waking her up or whispering a lullaby?"

"Gracie," he called, louder than Sam had. "Up and at 'em." Gray eyes slowly blinked open to stare up at his face innocently. She was obviously still dazed and half-asleep.

"Morning?" she asked.

"Yeah. Guessing you feel better? You should, considering you slept like a log. Anyway, you're awake now so let's go grab breakfast." He gently pushed her off so she sat on the rumpled sheets. "If we're lucky and Sammy hits him with that puppy face, Bobby'll make us French toast!" Dean chattered excitedly.

"Mm that sounds good," Gracie agreed, clumsily trying to untangle herself from the sheets while stepping out of bed. It didn't end well. She went down like a brick, hitting her head solidly on the floor with a yelp.

"Gracie!" Sam rushed over to tug the offending sheets that caused the accident off her. Gracie looked even more dazed than before, her hair messy as she stared off into space while Sam helped her. "You okay?" he rubbed her head gently.

"You're one clumsy kid. That's for sure. I hope for your sake you grow out of that." Dean mumbled, easily getting up and stretching without incident. His bones cracked appreciatively. Gracie climbed to her feet with Sam's assistance.

"I'm _not_ clumsy." she objected. "I just have a lot of accidents." She said this more quietly.

"Okay, well could we get down to breakfast _accident_ free now?"

Gracie gave him a petulant look from under her lashes before heading to the bathroom. Dean felt a stare burning a hole through him and turned to see Sam slowly shaking his head at him and disapproval.

"What?" Sam walked out of the room. "No seriously, what'd I say?"

The kids got down to the question as Bobby took the coffee out of the coffee maker and poured himself a steaming cup of black coffee.

"Ew." Dean scoffed, "That looks like mud." Bobby shot Dean a sharp look and he cowed slightly.

"Well ain't you a regular prince charming in the mornin'." Bobby said, slurping down his drink. "Orange juice is in the fridge. Dean, get the glasses." Being the tallest out of the three siblings Dean grudgingly reached into Bobby's cupboard and fished for three clean glasses.

Sam got the orange juice out of the fridge. "So, what's eating ya Red?" Bobby asked, noticing she wasn't in her normally chipper mood.

"Dean said I'm clumsy." she huffed.

" _You are!"_

Gracie glared, her eyes starting to glisten. Bobby had a feeling it was about more than falling down every now and again.

"Now look Grace," he began tactfully while getting out a frying pan to make French toast "… _with chocolate chips_ " Sam mouthed. "Nobody's perfect. And bein' a little uncoordinated is hardly the worst thing out there. What's _really_ buggin' ya? Besides this idjit not keepin his mouth shut?" he pointed to Dean.

Her lip quivered and her eyes looked far away.

 _Gracie happily walked to meet Sam at recess, carrying the snack she'd gotten from their teacher. A Slice of chocolate fudge cake with a strawberry on top! Mrs. Hunt had told her that she had a soft spot for children like Grace who struggled in school. She had suffered from low self-esteem and a severe stutter that made her the laughing stock of her classmates as a child, she'd told Grace._

" _And now I'm a teacher. I turned something painful into a way to help children. So I have faith in you, Gracie. I know you'll do big things someday." With Mrs. Hunt's encouragement and patience Grace had found new courage to volunteer to read aloud, even though her dyslexia meant that she was still far from perfect at it. To reward her effort Mrs. Hunt had brought her student cake after Gracie had confessed to having a sweet tooth._

 _She was beaming as she looked for Sam, wanting to share the large slice of cake with him. She doubted she would finish it herself. But as she looked for his familiar face she didn't notice the foot stick out as she walked by a group of kids from her class._

 _She stumbled, gasping as the cake slid from her hands. She attempted to catch herself but a swift kick to the back of her knees had her falling face first…into the chocolate cake. Loud laughter immediately filled her ears and she sat up slowly, blinking back the tears threatening to fall. "Wow, you're really clumsy." A boy standing above her sneered. Clearly he was the one to trip her._

" _W-Why?" Gracie asked quietly._

" _Because nobody likes a teacher's pet!" a girl with short, dark blonde hair barked. Kylie. She hadn't liked Gracie since they'd transferred to the school, although the redhead had no idea what she'd done. Normally Kylie ignored her and told her friends not to talk to her. But today she was taking action apparently._

" _Yeah! Or a freak." Added one of Kylie's friends, Vicki._

" _I'm_ not _a freak!" Gracie protested, her voice stronger. Inside she was crushed. This kept happening no matter where they went, and she couldn't figure out why. She started to stand but the boy who'd tripped her, a boy who followed Kylie around like a puppy named Gregory, stepped on her fingers and she collapsed back to the ground with a scream of pain._

" _So clumsy." He repeated, grinning._

" _Here's the thing." Kylie crouched down so she was close to Gracie's icing covered face. "You_ are _a freak. My daddy told me to stay away from you and your whole freaky family. He said your daddy looks like the kind of person who does bad things. He's prolly a murderer."_

" _No! Daddy never hurts anybody!" Gracie yelled. By this time other kids had stopped playing to watch. Some whispered and stared but no one attempted to intervene. "He's—"_

" _Just stop trying to be Mrs. Hunt's favorite!" Kylie growled. "And you're never gonna have friends here, freak. So maybe you and your brothers should just leave."_

 _Gracie didn't know what to do. Underneath the icing her face burned hot with humiliation and she could feel weighted stickiness in her hair. Everyone was staring and the hostility coming off Kylie and her friends was hitting her in waves and making her feel sick._

" _I…I…" she stammered helplessly._

" _Gracie?" Gracie blinked as heavy teardrops slid down her dirty face._

" _S-Sammy?" she breathed in relief, fighting back a sob. Sam, who had been helping the playground monitor take out the kick balls, rushed over and suddenly his hand was on her arm and there were new feelings flowing into her: shock, sadness, concern, anger._

 _He wiped some of the icing off with his fingers. "What happened?"_

" _Clumsy crybaby tripped and fell." Gregory cackled, Kylie and Vicki laughed with him._

 _Sam helped her sit up, and through his touch she could feel growing anger skittering into her like a spark. Sam was hardly ever really angry. Not like this. "You did this didn't you?"_

" _You can't prove that." Kylie scoffed. "She's just a dumb, clumsy weirdo who can't hold onto her cake." She strutted off and her two friends trailed behind her after sending the twins nasty looks._

 _Other children stared at the Winchesters a while longer before milling away._

" _Gracie?" Sam whispered as she silently shook._

" _It's my fault Sammy. I'm just so clumsy." she whispered back, her voice cracking._

 _Sam had asked for permission from the playground moniter, who had just come out, to walk his sister to the nurse. The stunned woman had taken one look at the little girl and quickly written them a pass. Aside from a bruise where she banged her chin on the ground, she was physically fine. The nurse gave her a spare shirt to change into and helped her clean her hair as she shakily repeated what had happened. Sam was angry, ready to run back and confront Kylie. But Gracie firmly told him not to. "Please don't Sammy. Don't even tell Dean."_

" _But…they hurt you!"_

" _I'm fine. I told you…I was just clumsy." Since then, the "C" word had become all but taboo._

Dean didn't know that though. It wasn't his fault. If he _had_ known why his sister was really so upset boy or girl, he would have torn those kids limb from limb.

"I'm… I'm not clumsy. I'm not a freak." Gracie said, almost in a trance.

"Of course you're not." Bobby agreed gently. He glanced back at the boys to see if either of them knew what this was about. Sam was staring at his sister sadly and Dean looked genuinely surprised.  
"Who said you were?" he demanded.

"Nobody."

"Bullsh—crap. You didn't suddenly just get that idea in your head."

"Doesn't matter anymore Dean. It was at 'nother school in Tennessee."

"The one we were at two months ago?"

She nodded glumly.

Dean turned on Sam. "You know about this?"

"She made me promise not to tell you…'cause you'd be mad."

"Well, yeah, kind of!" he raised his voice, throwing his arms in the air.

"Okay, okay. Everybody settle down." Bobby said. "Gracie why don't ya go an' splash your face with some warm water, see if that helps. Me and the boys got it from here." Grace trudged out of the kitchen and down the hall to the bathroom without meeting anyone's eyes.

Dean looked helplessly up at Bobby. "I didn't know."

"I know ya didn't Dean. And so does she. She'll forgive you."

Dean wanted to make sure she did. Despite getting the breakfast they'd all hoped for, everyone ate mostly in silence. Dean tried to revive the mood with jokes but it had flat-lined. After everyone was done eating, Bobby decided to go take Maximus some scraps while Dean told Gracie they were watching The Princess Bride.

"But you said it was a chick-flick." She eyed him curiously.

"I say a lot of things…sometimes stupid things." he grumbled, putting the VCR in the player.

She took his hand and settled quietly into his side, Sam next to her on the other side. "It's not your fault."

"No. But I'm your big brother. I'm supposed to be there for you." She squeezed his hand and he looked down to see her smiling up at him.

"You are," there was suddenly such a feeling of trust that washed over him his heart skipped a beat. His eyes widened. It was almost like it was coming from…but that wasn't impossible. _Was it?_

SPNxSPNxSPNxSPNxSPNxSPNxSPNxSPNxSPNxSPN

"Thanks again for watching the kids Bobby. Not too much trouble, right?"

Bobby shook his head as John closed his trunk, the kids and their things already loaded into the car.

"Nah, no trouble at all. You bring those kids by anytime."

John patted the older hunter on the shoulder in thanks and climbed into the driver's seat. Dean was staring off into space, Bobby noticed. He'd been preoccupied since the fiasco the day before. Gracie's spirit seemed back on the mend though; he could see her energetically talking to Sam in the backseat about something, using lots of hand gestures.

She glanced out the window and met his eyes, waving enthusiastically. He smiled, winking as she mouthed a "thank you". He knew she likely meant the arrangement about chores they'd worked out. Maybe he was spoiling the kid but she had a crisp ten dollar bill tucked away in her duffle, inside the book _Matilda_ her former teacher had gifted her.

"I'll call you if I have any trouble," John said from his window.

"Who else would take a call from you, ya stubborn son of a bitch?"

John chuckled, pulling out of Singer's Salvage and getting on the road to their next destination. Pennsylvania.

* * *

"Royale…Motel?" Gracie read the sign of their newest "home" for the next few months.

"Okay Dean, get everybody settled in and unload the car." John instructed as he killed the engine. "Gonna go make a food run."

"Yes, sir." Dean complied. He took the keys John had gotten from the front desk and unlocked the room door with Gracie and Sam plodding dutifully behind him, dragging their bags. Dean whistled lowly, mildly impressed. "Not bad."

The room had a "cabin in the woods" sort of design that made it feel unexpectedly cozy. There was actually a kitchen, which meant they could cook their meals. A pull out couch with a warm-looking flannel blanket draped across the back was in front of the living room's TV and upon exploring they found three attached bedrooms and one and a half bathrooms. "Dude, there's even a fireplace!" Dean called in excitement. "If Dad sprang for all this that must mean we're gonna be here a while." He told his siblings. "So let's unpack."

Sam quickly set to work putting the clothes from his duffle in their bedroom's closet before staking a claim on the right side of the bed, flopping on it and sprawling out. Gracie added her things to the closet more calmly, silently wondering what their next school would be like. Since John had started sending them she hadn't had much luck finding a school that was accepting, but she continued to hold out hope. Dean poked his head in through the door. "Almost done? Dad should be back soon, but uh, let's watch TV til he gets here!" Sam leaped up and ran to the living room.

"Coming?" Dean asked.

Gracie nodded, following her brothers.

They ended up watching some wrestling show her brothers and dad were crazy about. Dean and Sam were screaming so loudly she almost didn't hear the door open as John stepped through with his arms full of groceries. "Alright, everybody go bring the rest in out of the car." Sam and Dean shared a hesitant look, not wanting to leave the match. But the Winchester kids knew better than to make John give them an order twice.

They got up and brought in the dozen or so bags he'd brought back with him. One was still warm and smelled like diner food.

"So are we gonna be here a while this time?" Sam asked as he helped put the groceries away.

"Few months," John confirmed. "You'll all be going to school a few miles away from here."

"Daddy, where _is_ here?" Gracie asked.

"Scranton, sweetheart." John set there lunch down on the table. Juicy burgers and chili cheese fries for everyone.

"Scranton," she tried the word out on her lips.

Of course, none of the Winchesters could have predicted Scranton would bring a lot of firsts for the family. Some memorable, others chilling experiences that would lead them further down the road to the inevitable.

* * *

 **LONG NOTES BELOW! Some of it's rambling and some of it's relevant to the direction of where this story is going:**

 **I feel like since Bobby tried to do little things to make them feel more like "normal kids" he may have done things like let them watch movies, etc, while he had them at his house. Especially in the time before Sam (and in this case Gracie) really knew about hunting. He got into arguments with John over pushing Dean into the life too soon but since Sam didn't know he doesn't have to worry about that so they can just do regular kid crap at his place. Also, I actually looked up some movies from the 80's (or used some I've personally seen) for that scene. This chapter takes place in 1991…I wasn't born until 1994 so ALL of it was old by the time I was old enough to watch them but anyway that's where that list came from. XD Also Dean made a Princess Bride reference once in season 9-10 (can't remember which) so clearly something about the movie was good enough to stick with him after all these years. XD**

 **Part of me loves these childhood chapters, because let's be real, who could ever get enough of the innocence of the "baby" Winchesters? I mean I just melt every time I see a flashback to their childhood (that's not super sad) and I'm like "You see? Why can't there be more of this?" Whenever Little Sam comes on the screen especially I just melt. I wish we had more Little Dean moments of him with Mary or John as a little boy, maybe even before Sam was born or while Mary was pregnant. I bet he was sooo cute and excited to become a big brother. I just get that feeling. I have a pretty good read on the characters by now. I have been known to accurately guess the reactions of the characters and say their lines in verbatim before I've ever heard them. That's how well I know my boys and the show's writers by extension. Lol Anyway! Sam was such a sweet kid~ I like that in season 11 at age 9 he had a tuft of hair sticking up in a cowlick. Sooo adorable. And of course I've been gushing over Colin Ford's portrayal of young Sam since forever coughs** _ **twoyearsago**_ **coughs. But I understand he's now grown up a lot in real life and so he naturally plays teenage Sam while someone else plays tiny Sam. That's okay with me though. 3 This is just my rambling on how badly I always wanted to squeeze little Sam's cheeks and give him a huge hug. I do that with most things I find cute. It doesn't help that my pets allow it . XD :3**

 **And another part of me can't wait to make the kids grow up. Let me tell you that the teen years will be wild. Teenage angst, family fluff, the misadventures of growing up teen hunter style, and looooads of hormones. Fun times. Lol Then we all know how the adult years go, but of course I will be tweaking canon events to include Gracie's existence/role. I will likely also change the roles of other canon characters (like giving certain ones more screen time or having them show up earlier than they did in the show) as I briefly mentioned above. I will also stress that while the dynamics will gradually change from platonic feelings to well…Wincest, nothing taboo will happen until everyone is of consensual age (I'm thinking 18 for the twins-20 for Dean?) in the story; though that doesn't mean things won't get awkward or heavy before that~**

 **Oh! And a friend made a suggestion that she'd like to see CastielxSelphiel (Angel!Gracie) moments from the years they spent together in Heaven. I would honestly LOVE to write that because I admit I glossed over that time so I could get to the beginning of her life as a Winchester. So if anyone would like to read about the time between when Castiel and Selphiel met and when she fell let me know! :D I also think it's looking more like there'll likely be CastielxGracie romantic relations when they meet again on earth because I am SO tired of seeing poor Cas get used and abused by women who he trusts as well as like, everyone else who's ever betrayed him. So this may turn into a moresome or polyandry kind of deal before it's all over because honestly, all the guys have their merits and who could choose?! I genuinely like Sam and Dean equally and well, Cas too. I haven't seen too many of those on THIS site though I know there's plenty of that on Tumblr and Archive of Our Own.**

 **I have a theory about why Sam felt so disconnected to Mary in the beginning before taking the trip back in time and actually meeting her. Part of the disconnect is obvious. As a six month old baby of course you wouldn't really feel close to someone you never got to know growing up. But I also think that Dean never really told Sam much about who Mary was as a person and a mom when they were growing up. If you remember in the Pilot, Sam was especially skeptical of how well Dean even remembered her since he was only 4 when she died and kind of challenged him on it, which of course made Dean get defensive.**

 **I'm not surprised John wouldn't really talk about or mention Mary much aside from continuing to remind them they had to get revenge for her. But Dean…maybe he felt like by not telling Sam about her, stories of her, he was kind of keeping the last bit of her he could to himself. Something like a private connection. Just my theory anyway. I just got the impression no one told Sam much about her like** _ **at all**_ **. So of course when he met her when he was an adult he was truly meeting her for the very first time while Dean was meeting her again but maybe getting to see another side of her than just the mom he loved, but also the side of her as a hunter. I think in this story I'm going to try to drop a few Dean-tells-the-twins-about-Mary moments because I just feel like they deserve to know her from Dean's eyes.**


	8. Some Like It Cold

**I'm so glad the feedback on Gracie's character has been positive~ I think I worked harder on her than I have on any other OC I've made to date. Everyone finds her adorable and that's great, because "cute is what I aim for". ;) It was important to me she was her own character and not just a Sam or Dean clone. I see soooo many OCs that are basically just exact copies of one of the Winchesters (usually Dean) and I wanted something different. I'd like for her to retain some of that free-spirited innocence and her unique outlook even as she gets older.**

 **I also have a long list of notes I've taken down of events from the Winchesters' childhood mentioned throughout the show—what they did, what they liked, things like that. Basically I try to take all these moments and formulate them into full chapters, imagining how the events are most likely to have gone down. That's pretty much how this chapter happened. I included several canon events mentioned from their childhood.**

 **I felt like most of my dialogue ends up being between Gracie and Dean as far as the siblings are concerned and I don't know how that happened, but this chapter attempts to give Sam more of a voice going forward. It's weird…in future chapters I've written (I tend to write out of order as the mood strikes me for specific scenes—OMG there is full-tilt ANGST in soooo many of the future chapters, what the** _ **bluck**_ **. ) set during the teen and adult years he has a lot of monologue. A lot. XD Still ends up being the sensitive, yet sick-of-Dean's-shit Sam we're all familiar with though.**

 **That being said there is prominent Hurt! And Sick!Winchesters in this chapter—figured it was about time I delivered on the whump. :3 John's also a half-decent (but at the same time not really? It really depends on how you look at it) parent in this chapter. ^_^**

* * *

When the Winchesters woke up the morning of their first full day in Pennsylvania they were in for a surprise. Overnight, the world had become a winter wonderland, covered in a powdery blanket of snow. Snuggled up under the blankets and pressed close to the body next to her for warmth, Gracie's eyes opened blearily as John told them it was time to get up.

That was easy enough to say but much harder to do, though. She was so amazingly cozy snuggled up under the blankets, Petey in the crook of one arm and the other loosely curled up near her face.

Her eyes took a minute to adjust and when they did she found Sam staring back at her sleepily. "Good morning," he yawned with a goofy smile.

She giggled, noticing he had bed hair like he did every morning. "Daddy says it's time to get ready for school."

Sam took a minute to stretch his arms over his head as he started to wake up. "Yeah…but this bed is really comfortable." he sighed wistfully.

It was true. The mattress was probably one of the better ones they'd ever slept on. The sheets even smelled clean and the motel-provided blanket wasn't scratchy. "Dean's gonna use up the hot water and eat our breakfast if we don't go." she said, nudging him gently.

"You're right," Sam got out of bed and Gracie followed. They exited their shared room to see Dean coming out of his own room, looking content and well-rested. They all walked to the kitchen to find John already there sipping a steaming mug of coffee and scribbling in his ever-handy journal. Bagels and cream cheese were set out on the table along with a box of Frosted Flakes and a carton of recently bought milk. Beside their father was a microwaved egg and ham croissant sandwich from the motel's modest breakfast spread, and a half-eaten protein bar.

John looked up at his children and greeted them with a gruff "good morning". Despite always being up early, he was never much of a morning person attitude wise, but the kids had all gotten used to it.

Dean plunked down at the table after returning it, reaching for the box of cereal, ready to fish around for the prize inside. "Those hands clean?" John asked without looking up. Sheepishly, Dean put the box down and stood to join his brother and sister at the sink. After taking his turn, he, as the tallest, took clean paper bowls from the cupboard and passed them out.

Gracie skipped back to the table and cheerfully set her bowl down, taking a bagel and spreading it with cream cheese. Sam joined her, beating Dean to the box of cereal which made the older brother scowl slightly. Not so big a deal that John would take notice and scold them both for fighting over cereal when there was enough for all of them.

But surprisingly, Sam opened the box and tilted it toward Dean, silently offering up the plastic red kaleidoscope inside. Blinking, Dean gingerly took it and set it down near his side of the table before waiting on Sam to hand him the box so he could pour his breakfast. Gracie, meanwhile, was happily digging into her bagel, slathered thick with cream cheese just the way she liked it. After both her brothers had poured their cereal and milk, she got the box. "Thwanks!" she exclaimed around a mouthful of blueberry bagel. Dean snickered as he let go of the box.

"Hah! Hate to tell you Gracie but it looks like you missed your mouth."

She gulped down the chewed bagel and gave him a confused look. "Huh?"

"Cream cheese." Sam clarified as he put a finger on his own cheek. "Right here, and here…and some there, too."

She sheepishly wiped the spread off her face, grinning in a way that showed the gap left by the two teeth she'd recently lost.

Dean was still smirking lightly at her as he turned to John, shoveling cereal into his mouth and then swallowing quickly. "So Dad, I was thinking that while we're here we could, ya know, check out the big water park I heard they have around here. Oh, or Danny Philmore—he's a kid from my last school—told me they've got awesome burgers at this place near here!"

Dean knew before he even asked that it was a long shot. Whenever he was alone with John they rarely did _anything_ that didn't have to do with training him to be a proper hunter one day. He couldn't really remember the last time John picked him up early from school to play at the park. But he could remember with perfect clarity the last time his dad took him out of school early to go precision shooting in the woods.

Dean tried to think about his dad being proud of him every time he hit the targets with perfect accuracy, getting closer and closer to the bull's-eye. He tried pretending that the little half-smirks of his approval were full blown smiles of pride. He had known for a while what his dad was training him for, and he didn't question it. But sometimes…he just wanted the old John back, even if it was just for a few hours.

That hope was dashed once again when John eyed him briefly. "You know I'll be too busy for that, son."

Dean nodded woodenly, wholly expecting the answer and yet still inexplicably saddened by it. "But we'll go shooting this weekend." He tacked on, and Dean tried to paste on a genuine grin. That was better than nothing, wasn't it?

"When can I come shooting?" Sam asked eagerly after he finished off half his bagel.

Dean gave his little brother a discreetly pained look.

Sam had no clue why Dad took him shooting or he'd never ask to go. All he saw was Dean getting special attention from the father who always seemed to be in and out the door. The elder boy fully expected John's response to _this_ question too. The same thing it always was.

John finished his protein bar, drained his coffee. The answer that left his lips was _not_ the resounding rebuff he was waiting to hear. "Soon," he said.

"Really?" Sam's grin was equal parts excitement and surprise. He'd obviously been expecting to get rebuffed too, because as persistent as he was, he always got told no.

"Yeah, probably even while we're here." John nodded to himself. He clearly had already started making up his mind about this for a while. "Gracie'll come too, see how she does with it." The redhead perked at the sound of her name, but her father was clearly thinking out loud. She glanced around the table from Sam's bright smile—his excitement was filling her with energy and she smiled too—to Dean's wariness and hesitation. _His_ emotions were flowing into her too, and they wedged the sharp, prickly sensation of doubt into her mind. Dean wasn't excited. Not even a little bit. So should Sam be? Was shooting with Daddy _that_ bad?

She had no way of knowing, but it was the day Dean had been dreading. His little brother and sister were going to be introduced into this…thing Dad did. Hunting.

Gracie still couldn't handle _puppet_ goblins without getting nightmares. She hardly ever slept alone, kept her stuffed bunny under her arm every night, and had just recently been weaned off a nightlight. Hunting would not be doing her any favors.

And Sam…as giddy as he was now, one week into training to be a hunter and he'd be scared out of his mind too. His little brother was too soft for that.

Dean wanted to protest, but how could he? Dad had his mind set on it. And besides, Dad always knew best, right?

"When you're all finished, I brought you some winter gear, since we'll be here for a while and I don't see it getting any warmer." John explained nonchalantly. Dean half-expected the "gear" to be from the army surplus store. "Go get washed and ready and I'll take you to school." He finished off his breakfast sandwich and stood, exiting the kitchen.

Somehow after that the mood had become somber. "You heard him," Dean nudged Sam with an elbow. "Finish up slowpoke." This led to light bickering as Sam fired back about not being rushed and Dean threatened to steal the rest of Sam's bagel if he didn't hurry and eat it—even as his own cheeks bulged with unswallowed food.

Gracie tuned them out and finished her own breakfast, wanting to be the first one in the bathroom. She left them sitting there, arguing over bowls of soggy, half-finished cereal as she went to get ready for school.

***SPN***

Maybe it was the good night's sleep they had all gotten but the siblings didn't even make an issue about the bathroom.

By the time Gracie was standing by the front door fumbling to put on her goose down parka Sam and Dean were also dressed and ready to go. Dean watched her shrug on the thick jacket and sighed when she tried to get the headwarmer on. He quickly approached, yanking it out of her hands and fitting it snugly onto her head. He put her earmuffs on next and looped the scarf draped lazily over one shoulder securely around her neck while she put on her own mittens.

"Thank you Dean," she mumbled sheepishly.

Dean chuckled as he put on his scarf, hat and gloves, then moved to help Sam with his jacket's zipper. Unlike the twins, Dean had experienced a full blown snowy winter several times as a kid in Kansas and in towns they'd visited when Sam and Gracie were still too young to really remember. He remembered the way Mary use to bundle him up before he could go play outside and he was pretty adept at getting into winter gear by now.

John came out of his room in his leather jacket, thick gloves and a winter hat, nodding at his children in approval that they were all ready and leading everyone out into the snow. Gracie was the last child out and she stopped to marvel at the icicles hanging from the edges of the motel's roof, the powdery white falling in steady flakes and the crunchy snow packed under her feet.

"Wow," she breathed. "Real snow,"

Sam cupped his mitted hands together and let some snow fall into them, squinting carefully.

"What are you doing, son?" John asked, his tone somewhere between impatient and amused.

"At our last school they told us every snowflake has a special pattern. I wanna see if it's true."

"You'd need a microscope to be able to tell that, Sammy." Dean laughed, his breath visible in the frosty air. Sam looked a little disappointed by this news as he brushed his hands off and climbed into the backseat along with his sister.

"Okay, next stop school," John muttered as he started the engine and immediately got the heat going, despite the family's bundled state.

"I can't believe it's snowing and we're still going to school…" Dean complained. "It should be a snow day!"

"What's that mean?" Gracie asked.

"It means we'd be staying home, playing out in the snow and watching cartoons all day." Dean sighed wistfully.

"You're forgetting that snow is the norm here, Dean. If they closed things down every time it snowed in Pennsylvania during the winter nothing would ever get done. So unless folks are literally snowed in and roads are too icy, you're going to school." John said coolly.

Dean didn't complain again but it didn't stop him from glaring out the window for the rest of the ride. It was another school they wouldn't be staying at long enough to really fit in there, so why bother going? At least that was how he felt. Sam always liked school, though he wished they stayed in one place longer.

Gracie was usually apprehensive about new schools due to her learning disability and her track record with bullies. Kids definitely saw the insecurity she had as an invitation to pick on her, and that always led to Dean busting heads, which always led to the teachers thinking he was a troublemaker when really all he was doing was looking out for his little sister in the only way he knew how.

The rest of the ride was spent silently commiserating for Dean.

When they pulled up to the school, it was one of the rare occasions John actually parked the car instead of just dropping them off out front. The siblings took their time getting their backpacks, Sam and Gracie still slightly struggling with the restrictive movement of multiple layers.

Dean easily slung his backpack over his shoulder. "Bye, Dad," he said as he got out.

"Bye, Dean." John returned with a small smile. His other children finished getting their backpacks on and joined Dean at the side of his car.

"Bye Daddy," Gracie said.

"Bye Daddy," Sam echoed.

"Bye Gracie, bye Sam." John Winchester briefly looked all three of his children in the eyes. "And don't lose those scarves, hats and mittens. Everything you're wearing better come home with you because they're the only winter clothes you're getting, got it?"

"Yes, sir," they said together.

Gracie knew he was talking mostly to her. She remembered sheepishly that she had a bad habit of leaving clothes behind at school and later having to take a trip to the lost and found bin. But she couldn't tell her father that sometimes when she took her jacket off, kids would hide it from her.

John sighed heavily, rolled up the window and drove off. The black impala looked pretty, driving through the winter backdrop and down the road, Gracie thought idly, before Dean urged her and Sam inside the building.

* * *

Mr. Valdez was a nice teacher. He gave the class cocoa and put on a movie since the snow had picked up and they couldn't go out at recess. Gracie was content, snuggled in beside Sam on the class' thick carpet and nibbling one of the tiny marshmallows from the cocoa. The only noise besides the movie came from the sound of the class' pet guinea pig drinking water.

She wondered if this was part of how a snow day usually went. Well, if a snow day spent _in_ school counted—because according to Dean it didn't.

Hopefully, Dean's class was doing something fun too. She knew how much her older brother was looking forward to playing outside. She wished she could be doing all the fun things kids did in the snow that she saw on TV herself. But it was safer for everyone inside, according to Mr. Valdez. So the class of third graders stayed huddled on the rug watching Pinocchio.

Gracie marveled at the puppet every time his nose grew longer from a lie. To her, it seemed like it'd just be better for him to tell the truth. Especially if something embarrassing like _that_ was going to happen and he was going to have to tell the truth anyway in the end.

"That's so dumb." A girl to her right grumbled. "Adults always wanna scare us, but that's never happened to _me_."

Gracie blinked at her. "If it did happen would you still lie?" she whispered.

The girl looked at her as if it was an incredibly stupid question. "His nose grows because he doesn't lie right," she said. "I'd be better at it." She was unnervingly cocky in her ability to lie.

Gracie always felt like lying was one of the most awful things you could do—even if you didn't mean to. Lying on purpose just seemed so…well—just look where it got Pinocchio! Nowhere good. She glanced at Sam, who was studying the screen with rapt attention like most of the other kids. The flickering lights from the TV in the darkened room illuminated his face.

What would her family think if they knew all the secrets she never had the courage to say? Gracie could only imagine the disappointment. The problem was the more she thought of their disappointment, the more she felt like guilt was gnawing away at her insides. She was covering things up a lot like the way the snow piled up outside…

* * *

By the time school let out, the snow flurry had died down, but it was cold even through three layers of clothing, and the snow was up past their ankles. They stood huddled together, unconsciously sharing body heat, as they waited for John. He was running late. Normally that wasn't a big issue, but it was cold and they were just standing there—

"Come on," Dean said suddenly, stepping off the school's front stoop and down onto the snow. "We should get going."

Sam looked at him in alarm. "Get going where? Daddy's not he—"

"I talked to him this morning and he said if he was this late we should meet him back at the motel, so let's get walking. It's almost three miles on foot and we should get moving before we freeze our butts off."

Gracie worried her lip, looking into Dean's face to see if he was serious. It'd be a bad time to joke. Unfortunately, she didn't see the normal trace of humor in his eyes.

"But…m-maybe," she stuttered, her teeth starting to chatter and her cheeks feeling nearly numb. "Can we get a ride? Please Dean?" she almost whined.

"No," Dean sighed, squaring his shoulders forward. "If we do that we're gonna have to answer a lot of questions—like where Dad is and how come we're at the motel."

"That's better than being cold." Sam huffed, mittened hands jammed deep in his jacket pockets. His chin was tucked into his chest and his bangs had traces of snowflakes caught in them. The special flakes that had seemed so wonderful to him just that morning were definitely the enemy now.

"We're going." Dean said with finality as he began walking through the snow. Teachers and students eyed him curiously, some parents even looked on with concern as they watched two smaller children glance at each other before following him. Dean noticed. If they stuck around any longer they ran the risk of some well-meaning parent offering them a ride home…

They made it a block, Dean glancing behind him occasionally to make sure they were keeping up. The cold made the twins quieter than usual. They were walking side by side and knocking shoulders, still attempting to soak in warmth from each other. "Once we get moving we'll feel warmer." Dean told them. At least he hoped that was true anyway.

"You know, now I kinda wish we did have a snow day today. Inside." Sam said, trudging along.

"Just keep walking and we'll be there soon." Dean huffed, watching his breath appear as condensation. "You keeping up back there Gracie?"

"…"

Both boys stopped walking to glance back, only to see Gracie squatting in the snow-covered grass, rounding up a small ball of fluffy snow in her hands. She looked up when she felt them watching her. "I saw this on TV." The redhead stood up with a lumpy snowball in her hands. She cupped it like it was a precious jewel, holding it out to them. "Can I…" she stepped closer. "Can I throw this at you?" She asked it so sweetly, pleading at Dean with soft eyes.

He blinked, wide-eyed. "What? No!" He didn't need them to know it but he was secretly starting to freeze his butt off despite the layers and the last thing he needed was cold snow falling down his shirt when that thing made contact. "When you have a snowball fight you don't _ask_ first, you just do it." he scolded. "And even if you threw it, you wouldn't be able to hit me with that unless I let—" The ball of compacted snow connected with his face and it suddenly felt like his cheeks had been speared by icy needles.

Dean spat out some of the snow as the ball fell down his face and started melting, right there in his collar. He glared menacingly and Gracie took several stumbling steps back, mittened hands held up in front of her.

"What the—" Dean was still sputtering, both shocked and angry. The damn thing was cold! Well duh it was, but—but it was really cold. Especially when he was trying to stay warm and dry and protect the parts of his body not covered up from the wind's bite.

"You said just do it." she said meekly, dipping her head to accentuate her big eyes and rosy cheeks—suddenly the picture of innocence.

"I was using a hypothetical!"

"Hippothy…tical?" she asked in confusion.

"An _if_ , Gracie! As in _if_ we were really having a snowball fight."

"Oh," her shoulders sagged and she bit her lip, looking sheepishly at him. "Sorry…"

"No." Dean crouched down and quickly scooped up his own snow, patting it together into a ball between his gloves. It took him no more than a few seconds to form a good-sized ball of ammo. He had the benefit of past experience playing in the snow with random kids. Compared to her he was a pro. "But you will be!"

He hurtled the ball at her and as soon as she saw his arm winding back she turned and started trying to outrun it with a shriek. She didn't get far. It pegged her right in the back of the head and she slipped on the sidewalk and went down on her stomach. Sam, who had been watching the exchange in silence, thinking that both his siblings were definitely crazy, rushed to her side to make sure she was alright. Thanks to her puffy coat, she was unscathed by the fall, already flailing to get up. "You okay?!" he asked quickly. She nodded as she lifted herself up on shaky arms.

Sam turned around. "That was mean, Dean!" he scolded.

Dean gaped. "Oh! And hitting me in the face without warning was nice?" Still on her belly but lifted up by her arms, Gracie turned to look over her shoulder. His jacket was partially unzipped and she could see a wet spot on his exposed long-sleeved shirt.

"Maybe you deserved it." Sam countered succinctly, sticking his nose up in the air.

"I freaking think not!"

"You told her to do it!"

"IF! It was an IF!"

"Didn't _say_ if." Sam said obnoxiously. Dean couldn't believe his little brother was really using semantics on him.

"If little Miss Literal didn't do everything I say maybe—argh!" The older boy was left reeling by yet another unexpected assault. This time Gracie blinked in surprise. Was all that just to distract Dean enough for Sam to throw his own snowball?

Her twin didn't give her time to ask, he tugged her up by her hand, laughing. "Run Gracie, run!" And they did run, around Dean, who was still wiping snow out of his eyes, and down the sidewalk in the direction they were originally headed.

Once his vision was clear and he saw his brother and sister (smartly) running away from him, Dean quickly adjusted his backpack and gave chase. "Oh, hell no! Get back here!" He bent down as he ran and scooped up clumps of snow, throwing them at their backs without making them into snowballs.

Some hit their backpacks, but they squealed as others he aimed higher actually connected with their heads. He was pretty sure one had even slid down the back of Gracie's coat by the way she jumped. Smirking, he called after them, "Yeah, you better run!"

To anyone watching the trio run down the slushy sidewalk they looked like happy kids, at least at a glance. But closer inspection would likely make people question the panicked looks on the younger children's faces or the manic way the boy behind them was throwing snow at their backs. It was a bit comical if not wacky.

Everyone was out of breath by the time they reached the motel. Sam and Gracie spent some time skirting away from Dean as he grabbed for them, fully intending to noogie them into submission. When Dean had enough of trying to catch them he let out a long sigh, raised his hands, and called for a truce. The twins, happy to no longer have to fend off Dean, instantly stopped, nodding quickly.

Dean found the extra key he thankfully had, and the kids bustled into the warm dryness of their latest room. In the next seconds Grace and Sam were shucking their backpacks and stripping out of their damp coats almost before Dean had the door fully closed. When he turned around from dead-bolting it they were shivering, down to the single layers they had started out in.

Gracie was reluctant to remove her earmuffs, which had helped protect her ears from the biting cold. But she did, and then the fluffy headwarmer she wore in lieu of a hat came next. Sam took his hat off and shook the lingering snow from his bangs. Dean lifted a hand to his mouth and removed a glove with his teeth while the other hand zipped down his heavy jacket.

He was kicking off his boots even as he walked to the kitchen to find something hot to warm them up. The light shuffle of feet behind him meant he had been followed there. Sam peered over his arm—way too short to reach his shoulder—to look at the box of hot chocolate he found in the pantry. "This good for everybody?" he asked, shaking the box. His brother and sister eagerly nodded, both wanting to be warm as fast as possible.

Dean set to work making the hot drink while the twins sat at the table, elbows on top, talking. "I don't think I like going to school during snow days." Sam said.

"Me neither." Gracie agreed.

"With the weather like it is school'll prolly be cancelled tomorrow," Dean chimed in. He sure hoped it was. When outside time was cancelled he had to occupy himself by doodling absently on a math handout the teacher had passed around. Access to the outdoors was cancelled and she seriously wanted them to do _math_.

Even if he'd been willing to, that was impossible with the pest he'd found in a classmate he was calling All-Hands-Henrietta. At first glance she looked harmless—mousy brown hair that looked like it hardly saw a brush, big round glasses, braces on her teeth and floral-patterned clothes. She took one look at him and was infatuated—to the point of overbearing clinginess—and wouldn't leave him alone all day. Whenever he looked over his shoulder she was there, breathing in his personal space, finding excuses to touch him, even squeezing his thigh several times. Dean felt beyond violated.

His thoughts strayed to the fact that he always thought attention from a girl would be more…welcome.

"Don't forget the marshmallows!" Sam's voice broke him out of his unpleasant memory. Dean absently went back into the pantry and fished out the large bag of white puffs. Rolling his eyes Dean stuffed one in his mouth and put several more into the steaming cups he'd just poured the cocoa into.

"Three not two!" Gracie reminded him as he was getting ready to bring the cup over. With a sigh, he put another marshmallow into her cup and brought it to the table. He sat hers and Sam's down and then went back for his before joining them. The three kids took simultaneous sips from their mugs, sighing in content as one.

"Better," Sam murmured, licking the creamy foam from his lip. He instantly felt warmed from the inside out.

"Mm-hm," Gracie agreed happily.

"It needs something though…" Dean said to himself.

They sat in silence momentarily and sipped their drinks thoughtfully.

"Oh!" Gracie suddenly exclaimed. "I should make dinner."

Dean's mouth stretched into a wide grin. "Hot food on a cold day is _exactly_ what this needs."

That was how she ended up making spaghetti, a recipe she knew by heart. Everyone had finished fixing plates and Gracie was giggling as she watched Dean simultaneously inhale his food while trying to steal a meatball from Sam's plate—a move their brother blocked aggressively with his fork.

None of them noticed the doorknob rattle, but they felt the chilly blast of air as it swung open, and John Winchester stumbled in, looking terrible. He was breathing raggedly, and all three of his children rushed over to him. "Dad!" Dean cried, rushing to sling an arm around his dad's shoulders as he pitched forward.

"Dean," John grunted, wincing, "Help me make it over…to the couch, would ya?"

"Yeah Dad, sure." His oldest son quickly agreed, slowly half-dragging and half-supporting John as they walked to the couch and Dean carefully deposited his father onto it.

"First aid kit?" he asked quietly. John nodded, expelling a long sigh from his lips. Dean went to get it from John's room, and Sam went to drag John's bag from the doorway where he'd hastily dropped it.

That left father and daughter alone together. "Daddy, what happened?" Gracie asked, her eyes full of concern as she placed her small hands against his side. But even that slight pressure made him flinch away, and she quickly retreated from his side with a gasp, afraid of doing any more damage. It wasn't the first time their father had come back to them banged up. Every time he did she was immensely sad, and naturally curious. How did her dad get himself so hurt? Deep down she knew the answer, as scared as she was to admit it, even to herself, inside her head.

John glanced to her, giving her a somewhat pained smile as he held out a hand to her. Cautiously, she made her way back to his side, standing just within reach. He slowly raised a large hand to place on top of her head, carding through the soft strands. "I'm fine, sweetheart. Got a little banged up but you know it's nothing I can't handle. Daddy'll be good as new soon."

"Dad? Want me to put this in your room?" Sam asked, dragging his beat up duffle across the floor and into the sitting room.

"Yeah, that'll be fine. Thanks Sam." Sam smiled a little at being thanked, before continuing to haul John's heavy bag past them and down the small hall to the man's bedroom. Dean came around the corner holding the large professional-grade first-aid kit at almost the same time.

"Gracie, help me get his shirt off so we can see what we're dealing with." Dean instructed. Obediently, the small girl began stripping John's top half free of his many layers in tandem with her older brother. John groaned quietly, shifting to help his kids get his leather jacket and several under shirts off so they could inspect his bruised chest.

He was positive his ribs were bruised, if not cracked. The wendigo had also managed to land a swipe on him before he took it down, and in the process of being caught off guard he'd stumbled back, slipped, and sprained his ankle. Scraped the side of his head against a damn tree on the way down too. He could feel the blood congealing. Basically, he was a mess. Hunting in the middle of an approaching snow storm was crazy and he knew it, but the damned thing would've kept up its grizzly hunting spree if he didn't do something about it. It wouldn't have quietly gone away until the snow thawed.

And as much as he hated for his kids to see him in such rough shape, there was nothing he could do about it. Soon enough they'd start their training and one day they'd join him out there. Hell, one day he might be the one patching them up—Dean was already fully aware of what he did, and had even seen him in action a few times, on some routine ghost hunts.

He knew his way around most of the weapon's in John's arsenal, knew how to shoot, field dress wounds, clean bullet holes with whiskey and a pen knife, and was quickly learning the instincts he'd need to keep himself alive.

Yeah, kids Dean's age shouldn't need to know half the stuff he'd taught his boy, but it was the reality of the life he lived, and sooner or later it would be their reality too. John hesitated, not that they noticed, as he stared at the worried face of his daughter— _so much like Mary_ —as she stood at his side, holding his hand gently. His little girl was compassionate.

John envisioned the innocent face cut up and bruised, his daughter holding a gun almost too big for her small hands and aiming at her target—a deadly spirit hell-bent on revenge or a werewolf with a thirst for the hunt. He should have been imagining her having tea parties with her dolls, or blowing out the candles on a birthday cake.

But all he could see was the alternative if he _didn't_ teach her how to defend herself—cold gray eyes that stared at nothing, waxen skin and a mangled body that had never grown to maturity.

He refused to risk it. And while hunting could lead to the same results, at least she'd have survival skills. His eyes shifted to Sam, who soaked in every detail of Dean's handy work on the gashes across his abdomen. It looked bad, and it hurt like hell, but his boy didn't even flinch as he cleaned out the wounds, bandaged him up. His older boy was strong. And Sam's eyes brimmed with a mixture between horror and intense fascination. No doubt his brain was soaking everything in, filing it away. His younger boy was smart.

"Okay, these should be…good." Dean breathed, stepping back to inspect his work. Gracie peered at the bandages and bit her lip, holding in a whine. Why…why did Daddy do this? "You're…you were holding your side." He continued, meeting John's eyes.

The hunter shifted slightly, trying to make himself more comfortable without jostling Dean's fresh patch job. "Might've took one in the ribs." He said lowly.

Dean heard it though, and tried to urgently look at the discolored skin without appearing too concerned. No need to freak his brother and sister out. What he didn't know was standing in such close proximity meant Gracie got the brunt of his carefully concealed panic, so the calm mask he wore wasn't fooling her anyway. Even as Dean frowned at his father's injured side, Gracie skimmed her cool hands against it, as if she could find and erase the pain.

John's eyes fluttered at the soft touch, anticipating that it would irritate his injury. He was inwardly surprised that it actually felt like the pain dulled slightly. "It's gonna need a lot of ice…I'll go get some." Dean said quietly, making his way to the door to go find an ice machine.

"Are you hungry, Daddy? I cooked…" Gracie told him. "It's 'Pasghetti."

John ran a hand through her hair again. "You're already so responsible."

She beamed at the praise, deciding she'd go fix him some food since he had to be hungry. She warmed up the food a little and carried it out to him with a glass of water. Sam had just come back with a bottle of painkillers and John had popped two right before she handed him the water, which he gulped down. Carefully setting the plate down on the table, she glanced at her father. He couldn't eat laying down, so with Sam's help she maneuvered him into a sitting position on the couch, then handed him his plate.

"Thanks," he nodded gratefully, tucking into his food as Dean walked back in the door shivering. He was carrying a bucket so full of ice some cubes spilled.

"F-Found the ice m-maker…" he said, shaking. "I shoulda just scooped snow off the ground…" he added. John laughed, coughing as it irritated his side. Dean made him an ice pack and he took it with a nod. It was so cold against his skin it almost burned, but he had dealt with worse.

"Um, you good here Dad?" Dean asked. Watching their dad eat reminded him his own stomach still wasn't full, since John burst in right in the middle of dinner.

"Fine son, thanks to you three." Sam and Gracie were practically blushing at the praise.

"No problem." Dean attempted to brush it off more casually. "We're uh, just gonna be in the kitchen finishing up dinner if you need us."

John made a noise to acknowledge he'd heard them and satisfied that he was alright, they ran back into the kitchen.

***SPN***

Deciding he didn't feel like attempting to make it back to his room that night, the couch was pulled out into a bed and John slept there while the twins went to their own room and Dean went to his. As the snow came down hard outside the family of four was tucked away, dry, warm and with full stomachs.

The only problem was the fitful sleep one of them was having. Gracie actually got up in the middle of the night to sleep in her own bed for a change, because she felt bad about all the wiggling around she was doing and didn't want to disturb Sam.

When morning came, Sam was up early, as usual. He turned to greet his sister, only to see her half of the bed was empty and there was a lump on the bed next to his. Shrugging, he decided to get to the bathroom early, before Dean could hog it. After relieving himself he walked back to see if Gracie was up yet, but she still hadn't stirred. He made his way to her side. She was faced away from him and mostly buried under the sheets; he shook her shoulder. "Hey, time to get up," he called softly. No answer. Confused, he peeled back the sheet and rolled her onto her back. The sight that greeted him made him jump in alarm.

Instead of her being a healthy color, she was deathly pale, except for the too-red color of her cheeks. "Gracie? Wake up!" he said a little nervously, shaking her shoulder. Her lack of response and the fact that her breathing looked labored was scaring him. He pushed her bangs away and frowned at the way they were sticking to her sweaty forehead.

Sam had learned that in the absence of a thermometer, sometimes a basic assessment could be gotten from simply touching the person's forehead. And going from the extreme heat of hers, something was definitely wrong with Gracie. He ran out of the room, going straight to his Dad, who was sleeping soundly.

"Dad! Dad!" John shot straight up, groaning softly and holding his abdomen where his wrapped wounds were.

Sam started babbling at him, and he could barely make out whatever he was pushing out. He did sense the urgency in the tugging of his hand though. All the commotion had even drawn Dean from his room, somehow, and his older brother emerged with a yawn and a stretch.

"Dude. Some of us wanna catch Z's more than worms."

Exasperated, Sam glared at both of them. " _Gracie's really sick!_ " he enunciated as if they were the ones being unreasonable. That got their attention.

"What? What's wrong with her? How do you know?"

"She's really hot," Sam replied frantically. "And she's too pale and she won't wake up."

Alarmed, Dean rushed to the twins' shared bedroom as John lifted himself up to follow. He found her the same way Sam had left her, laying on her back, shivering with her eyes closed. "Gracie, hey," he took both her shoulders and propped her up, sitting on the bed beside her.

John made his way over, taking her from Dean and skimming a hand down her cheek. He cursed at the unnatural amount of heat coming off her. "Sam, I need you to go run a cold bath." He commanded.

Sam swallowed. A part of him just wanted to stay by his sister's side, but he reluctantly went off to get the bath ready.

"Gracie, honey are you with me?" he asked, and she groaned weakly, her eyes starting to flutter open as she was carried.

"Daddy… I feel hot and sticky…"she said, her voice thin.

"I know, baby. You're sick." John sighed deeply. "Probably out in that cold too long yesterday."

Dean paused after hearing this, remembering them playing in the snow. All the snow he'd gotten inside her clothes. She was sick because of him.

"Where're we goin'?" she asked, peering down at Dean in confusion. He was trailing behind their father.

"Gonna get you a bath to try and bring down the fever. If it's as bad as I think it is outside we might be snowed in. After that we'll change your clothes and put you back in bed, get you something to eat. Sound good?"

"Okay," she managed to rasp out. But the trust she placed in her family to take care of her was very clear, and Dean flinched as she tried to smile at him.

They made it to the bathroom and John set her down on the toilet seat. Sam had finished filling the tub with cool water and was watching anxiously as John began stripping Gracie out of her damp, sweat-soaked pajamas. She wiggled awkwardly when she realized what was happening but John soothed her quietly and with the little energy she had, she wasn't exactly up for fighting him to do it herself. Her limbs felt like Jell-O and her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls. Just focusing so she didn't see double was hard.

Being the only girl in her family, she had learned to change and bath herself from a young age, though there was hardly ever a thing like modesty with most of the Winchesters. It came from living in close quarters. Still, Gracie had prided herself in the fact that she hadn't needed help undressing since she was three. Now she felt boneless and embarrassed as her Daddy pulled her shirt over her head and the cool air of the bathroom hit her bare skin. Sam and Dean watched, waiting to help in case John needed them to get something.

She hardly had time to blush—not that anyone could tell with how red and sweaty her face was—before John lifted her naked body into the tub and she yelped, trying to jerk out of the icy water. Wasn't cold what got her sick in the first place? There was a strong hand on her shoulder, holding her down and she shook, whining for warmth. She vaguely heard John asking Dean to help her while he got her clean clothes ready. Her big brother solemnly took the wash cloth and soap cake and started gently washing her down almost before their father had left the room.

"Too c-cold De…" she muttered, hoping her brother would take pity. His heart surged with guilt as she looked up at him with glassy eyes.

"Yeah, I know," he said quietly. "But it's the only thing that'll help break your fever…" Sam silently sat on the vacated toilet lid, arms folded around himself protectively as he stared at his feet, biting his lip. He felt helpless, seeing his sister like this.

John came back in a few minutes later to check up on them. Dean continued to clean his sister off and press a hand to her forehead, taking his responsibility seriously. Gracie was slipping in and out of consciousness, clearly exhausted. There was no way she would have been able to clean herself. To make matters worse, he had been right. They were completely snowed in until God knows when. There was no going out for medicine or taking Gracie to a hospital if she got any worse. But the boys didn't need to know that.

"That's enough, Dean." John said. "Get her out and we'll put some dry clothes on her. I've already got some potato soup and orange juice waiting."

Dean carefully lifted his sister out of the tub, pulling the drain stopper. She hung limply in his arms, even as he wrapped her up in a dry towel and brought her back to the bedroom. After she was toweled dry from head to toe, Sam eagerly helped get fresh pajamas on her, just so he wouldn't feel like he wasn't helping. Dean then tucked her into bed after Sam crawled in next to her, wanting to be close.

"Okay sweetie, time to wake up and eat something." John calmly propped his daughter up, shaking her until her eyes opened again.

She yawned, blinking. "Mm?"

John set the bowl of soup and the tall glass of juice on the table by the bed. "Come on, you need to try and get this down." He raised the spoon of hot soup to her lips, and even though she wasn't sure she wanted food, she opened her mouth obediently and let him spoon it in.

It wasn't Uncle Bobby's chowder, but it went down easy and made her feel warm inside, and that was all that mattered. He spoon fed her the whole bowl and then had her take some pain medicine with her orange juice for her head ache.

Her eyelids started to feel heavy after that, and with Sam's body heat curled into her side she was having a hard time staying awake.

The last thing she thought she heard came from Sam beside her. "Is she gonna be okay?"

* * *

' _This isn't Pennsylvania!_ ' Gracie thought, glancing around at the rolling green hills and cows peacefully grazing in the wide open pastures.

In fact, it wasn't even cold enough to be winter. The sweet scent of spring was in the air and the bright sky above her made her feel rejuvenated. It looked exactly like the dairy farm they'd visited out in the country with her second-grade class the year before. A group of children she recognized was feeding a bottle to a young calf. She remembered that baby; his name was Tank and he'd licked straw out of her hand. Looking down, she saw she was in the jean shorts and white and yellow striped t-shirt she'd been wearing on that day. She was in another memory.

"Hello Grace," Just like before, she saw the angel, Joshua. "It's been some time since we last met. This is quite the peaceful memory isn't it?" he gestured behind him and she saw herself and Sam, stroking the little bull. He was butting his head against her stomach gently and she was giggling. This was definitely the memory of her class trip.

"What…what?" she stammered.

Joshua frowned in concern. "You're very sick right now, unconscious in your room. Your father and brothers seem quite worried."

"I'm…sick?" Everything from the last day was blurry.

"Pneumonia." He nodded. "When you healed John you got yourself weakened and the pneumonia settled right in."

"I healed Daddy?! How?" she gasped.

Joshua smiled secretively. "You've got a lot of potential, Grace Winchester. You can do a lot of good one day. In fact, you might say I'm counting on you to."

Gracie's head lowered thoughtfully. "Is that why…I feel people? What they feel?"

"Precisely." Joshua smiled. "But that's just the beginning."

She frowned, shaking her head. "But—I'm scared." Her lower lip trembled. "What if they're right? I'm…I'm a freak?"

The angel sighed. "It's true not everyone you meet will be kind, but be strong. I believe in you,"

Gracie smiled softly. Somehow the angel's gentle words really did make her feel a little better.

"I'm sorry our meeting's brief. The next time I see you, we'll talk about what you need to do. For now, rest."

There was a flash of light and Gracie felt her eyes fluttering open again. The first thing she registered was two arms holding her tight. The chestnut hair gave her an indication of who it was. "Sammy?" her voice was soft and hoarse, but Sam had heard her clearly.

"Gracie!" he cheered, happy to see her awake. She stared at him with droopy eyes, her wheezing breaths loud in the quietness that followed.

"I'm gonna get Dean. He's been checking in," Sam climbed out of bed slowly and was careful to pull the covers back up to her chin before he sprinted out of the room.

She stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to process. She was sick with…nee-moan-ya. Once a girl named Muffy from her class was out with it and was in the hospital. Maybe she'd have to go to the hospital too. Was she going to get worse? Would she die? The thought made her feel more jaded than any eight year old should, along with the thought of "dream". Every time they talked, Joshua told her something she knew was important, but didn't understand. And he never really explained. Maybe he would next time… For now she would keep it to herself.

"Hey, slow down," she heard Dean saying, and perked up. Sam had returned, pulling the older boy by the wrist. Sam let go and Dean stopped in his tracks when he noticed Gracie was awake. Through Sam's excited rambling he really hadn't understood what his little brother was trying to tell him. He started to retreat from the room, but Sam grabbed him again, cutting his thoughts off with a chastising glare.

"You're up, huh? Well, awake at least. You probably still feel like crap. N-Not that it—"

"Dean?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice from squeaking. "Sit?"

She was asking if he'd come sit with her, and as much as he wanted to, he wasn't sure he had the right when it was mostly his fault she was sick in the first place. It was stupid of him to make them walk home in freezing weather. Stupider still to stop and allow them to play in the snow, get her clothes wet.

"Uh I-I don't—"

" _Please?_ " she whined pitifully, feeling rejected.

Stiffly, he walked over and sat down on the bed, closer to the end than to her. Satisfied, Sam reclaimed his spot snuggled under the covers with his sister.

Silence fell over the room, heavy and uncomfortable. Even with her mind fuzzy, Gracie noticed, and started speaking, "Sorry De." she said, "I'm bad…I—"

"Sorry for what, dummy? I let you play in the snow. I got you sick." he grumbled. Shakily, she lifted a hand out towards him. His guilt was hitting her, and so was Sam's concern, and being as sick as she was she wasn't sure if contact would be good for…whatever it was she could do. Her head was already buzzing. But her brother needed comforting so she had to try. Her hand continued to remain out, waiting for his. Just as her arm got tired, and she started to drop it back to the covers, his gently grabbed the small, clammy palm. He scooted closer and she grinned. Sam, not wanting to be left out, took her other hand.

"Tell us a s-story De? About Mommy…" Dean's surprise zapped at her skin like static but she just squeezed his hand comfortingly.

"Um, w-what do you wanna—Well," Dean decided it was the least he could do, no matter how awkward it was for him. He thought back carefully. The first memory that came to him was the day the twins came home from the hospital. He was home with a babysitter, bouncing with excitement, because that morning his mom had said they had a surprise for him.

After kindergarten, Dean was left with Mrs. Crenshaw, a nice if not somewhat absent-minded woman who talked about her adult children. A lot. Dean didn't mind her though, because sneaking pie before dinner was always easy when she babysat.

When his parents had come through the door, carrying two bundles, Dean was so excited. Mrs. Crenshaw had gushed over the new additions, lamenting over her youngest son not giving her grandchildren of her own, but Dean practically pushed the older woman over in his excitement. He would never admit it aloud, but it was love at first sight.

Mary sat with him on the couch, and helped him hold one of the babies. A sweet little girl who looked up at him with watery blue-gray eyes. It could have just been his imagination, but he felt nothing but absolute trust from the infant.

When he'd asked in wonder if they really got to keep them, Mary had laughed her wonderful laugh and hugged him lovingly. Then John had brought over his baby brother so Dean could have a turn holding him too, and his four year old existence had never felt more complete. "She loved us a lot." He swallowed thickly. "She had the best laugh." Gracie sniffled. Her nose was starting to run, but she didn't want to interrupt Dean's story because she was fascinated. "Her and Dad—they argued for like three months about what color your hair would be."

"Really?" Gracie asked in awe. To think of her mom, who thought about her, down to the very littlest details, made her feel…like she wasn't sick in bed, struggling to breathe.

He tickled her side lightly. "Yeah, really," he smiled a little. "Dad was sure it would be blonde like Mom's. But she always thought it would be red." Dean's smile got wider as he remembered the playful banter of Mary and John as she nursed the twins. "Maybe that's why she dressed you up like a baby carrot for Halloween."

"What was I?" Sam asked in excitement.

Dean's face scrunched as he pretended he couldn't remember.

"Dean!" his little brother squawked.

"You were a puppy. You had those puppy eyes even then." Dean snickered. "I think Mom could see into the future. Anyway, she took you both in the stroller when I went trick-or-treating." Dean explained. "I swear I got more candy that year than I ever got before. Somethin' about everybody likin' babies, ya know?"

"What else?" Sam pressed. He was soaking in the information like a sponge, trying to connect with a person he never got to know through the story.

"She had a _really_ good uppercut." Gracie sat up as best as she could, hanging onto every word.

"I mean one time I was with her going grocery shopping, right?" Dean shifted so he was more comfortable as he launched into another memory, "And this guy came outta nowhere, started trying to put the moves on Mom." Dean glared at the memory. "And I was kinda worried, because Dad wasn't around… and the creep was like twice her size. But I don't think she was even a little scared. He followed us to the car and tried to grab her arm before she could get in. She turned around and just…knocked him off her. He went down with one hit." They could clearly see the same reverence in Dean's eyes for their mother that he had for her on that day.

Gracie's eyes glowed and she tried to imagine the faceless mother she didn't remember as a strong woman that never got pushed around.

"Mom was awesome," Sam seemed to voice all three of their thoughts. "Wasn't she?" he asked rhetorically, because neither of his siblings was inclined to disagree.

"She was. Best mom ever." Dean agreed.

Dean's smile faded, and his green eyes shined wetly. "The day she…she died, uh, we all went to the park that afternoon. Dad even came home from work early and went with us. It was a lot of fun. We had a picnic." The words tried to clog in his throat but he pushed them out anyway. "Mom and Dad were all mushy, feedin' each other food and stuff. And they were really excited, because Sam rolled over by himself." Dean rolled his eyes as he said it, but Gracie could feel his pride. "Gracie," he looked at her with a fond expression in his eyes. "You kept trying to eat the picnic food."

"I did?" she croaked. "But…babies eat mush, right?" She vaguely remembered being in a high chair, and a rubber spoon with strained green ick being held in her face.

"Try tellin' you that!" Dean laughed as he remembered his little sister, whining from John's lap and trying to reach up and take the food her parents passed to each other over her head. Once, before anyone could stop her, she'd reached right into the bowl of tuna salad and scooped up a handful to stuff in her face, sucking her fist triumphantly. Everyone had laughed.

"I miss her." Dean said finally. "Every day."

Gracie squeezed his hand again, settling back against the pillow as her eyes started to shut. She was feeling sleepy again and part of her wondered if Joshua would be waiting for her when she drifted off.

* * *

 **There was a point to this chapter, I promise! I had originally planned to include even more but I figured this was already long enough and opted to just break it up into another chapter. So they will still be snowed in next chapter and Gracie will still be sick. What you should be interested in is what delusional ramblings will be revealed during her fever dreams. Secrets she's been keeping, perhaps…?**

 **I hope I accurately portrayed Dean's apprehension about watching his little brother and sister get introduced to the world of hunting in the future. I feel like he wouldn't have been happy about it. He's always felt like he needed to protect them, yet how does he do that from John, the dad he trusts, but is at the same time putting them in direct danger?**

 **I also like the cuteness of them experiencing snow, and Dean's candidness when it comes to telling his siblings about Mary. I'm trying to make it therapeutic for all of them. Dean gets to talk about it, which he can't with John—not really—and Sam and Gracie get to connect a little more with the mom they never got to know. In my mind, Mary Winchester's last day alive was always a happy one where they did some family activity together. Maybe I always pictured it that way for Dean's benefit, I dunno.**

 **In case I mention it in the future, in this story, Dean's eyes come from John. Because Matt Cohen (young John) has green eyes as far as I can tell. So we'll pretend that if not directly from John green eyes come from his side of the family. I know JDM has dark ones but we're going with genealogy here folks and yes genes can skip a parent and still effect the offspring but meh, most of you probably know that because I've only gotten one person who asked why Gracie is a redhead.**

 **Oh! And actual elements of the supernatural will be coming into play soon. This story won't be without the creepy things in the dark for much longer.**


	9. Danger Looming

**Okay, so I have a reason this chapter was sort of delayed…I lost my iPod Touch. It contained a lot of notes about very important things i wanted to have in this chapter and future kid chapters before doing a mini time-skip of a few years. That happened in July and while I was figuring out what I should do, working on this chapter sort of ground to a halt. Fast forward to middle of August when I get a call from my old college, where my grandpa is a professor, to tell me my iPod was found and turned in last month shortly after it was lost (dropped out of my bag while I was getting him from work), but that for some reason they couldn't reach me (my old phone was TRASH). So by a stroke of luck, having my number engraved on the back, and having honest people exist, I was able to have it returned to me and I can continue with the chapters as planned. Well…except I'm in grad school so…slow updates, but you know, it's all relative I guess? Then there was the bitch of a hurricane named Irma. I evacuated. Again. But it ended up coming to my city as a tropical storm… :/ I got a nice little NC vacation out of it but I got back to a mountain of catch-up work. Anyway…**

 **Can't believe we've** _ **almost**_ **reached a whole 10 chapters in! I feel like this is a big milestone. More mini-time skips coming up very soon. The "babies" continue to grow. And with growing comes growing pains—and the supernatural. Please review! The feedback really helps inspire me.**

* * *

"How's she doing Dean?" John asked as he walked into the room. Two days later and Gracie's fever was only slightly lowered.

They were still snowed in with no sign of a rescue anytime soon, so John and the boys were trying to make the most of it while watching Gracie. Dean had set up vigil at her bedside. And Sam was helping any way he could. John was thankful his boys were being so responsible while he was on the mend. Although, his injuries didn't hurt nearly as much as they normally would. It even seemed like…he was healing faster. Impossible, but the closed wounds becoming pink and itchy and the dull pain in his side didn't lie.

Dean's eyes slowly lifted from Gracie's face, nearly peaceful as she slept. Except for the rattle of the mucus in her lungs. "Better, I think."

John handed over some Tylenol and a glass of juice for Gracie, a sandwich on a plate for Dean. The unspoken rule was whoever wasn't on watch shift made something for the one who was. "Get her to take it when she's up."

Dean nodded slowly and John left the room, throwing one more backwards glance at the two. Dean ate his sandwich, watching the small chest lift and drop. It _was_ better. Sort of. She still was pretty out of it.

"C'mon Gracie…" he sighed. "You'll pull through." Because really, the alternative wasn't acceptable, so he wasn't letting himself think it.

"Why wouldn't she?"

Startled, Dean looked up and saw Sam standing in the door way, looking at him expectantly.

"Thought you were reading or something…"

Sam entered the room, a worn copy of _Charlotte's Web_ dangling from his hand. "I was. But now I'm done," he carefully sat himself on the bed, staring at his sister's sweating face. Dean watched as Sam lightly pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, then felt his own for comparison. "She's still got a fever…"

"No duh, genius."

"Don't be a jerk!"

The brothers glared at each.

Gracie groaned quietly and they broke their staring contest to see her face appeared pinched. She was muttering unintelligibly.

"What's she trying to say?" Sam asked, concerned.

Dean shrugged. "How should I know? I don't speak…" he gesticulated, "sick."

"…Angels…" Gracie whispered. "Is he here?"

Confused, Sam and Dean leaned in. "Hey, you awake?" Dean whispered, lightly shaking her shoulder.

She looked at them tiredly. "Sorry…Mr. Joshua tol' me to watch Sam." she blurted. "But…I got sick, so I couldn't. And I dunno what Sammy did that I have to watch him."

"Watch? Who's Joshua?" Dean asked, alarmed.

"The angel that talks to me sometimes." She continued softly. Dean looked into her glassy eyes and touched her forehead. She was having fever hallucinations. She probably didn't even know who she was talking to.

"He's nice…" she continued. "He always makes me dream good dreams."

"And Josh the angel tells you to watch Sam?" Dean asked dryly.

"I knew it!" Sam exclaimed.

Dean looked at his little brother, who was grinning.

"What are you talking about? She's just saying stuff she dreamed about, you know. She's not gonna remember any of it later." Dean informed him crossly.

Sam gave his brother a defiant stare. "But why can't angels be watching over us for real?" he challenged.

The older boy jerked back, alarmed. A memory he'd tried to bury down popped up of a blond woman smiling down at him lovingly as she stroked his hair.

" _Just remember, angels are watching over you, Dean."_

"Because angels aren't real, Sam." He bit out.

"They could be…" he insisted stubbornly.

"Well that's stupid, Sam. You know why?" he asked. "Because if angels really were looking out for us, Mom would still be here, wouldn't she?" he snapped. "But they didn't care about her, and they don't care about us. So grow up. They're _not real_!"

The minute he saw Sam shrink back, eyes wide, he knew he'd gone too far.

"I—Sammy I'm so—"

"What the hell is going on in here?" John demanded, stomping his way into the room.

Dean instantly bowed his head in submission. "N-Nothing, sir. Sorry."

"You know your sister still needs her rest. I need you boys to step up, so whatever the fight was about, it's dropped, understood?"

"Yes, sir." Dean said immediately.

"…"

"Sam?" John cut his younger son a stern look.

"Yes, sir." Sam huffed.

Satisfied, John approached Gracie, who was still staring blankly with glossy eyes. "How are you feeling sweetheart? Drink this." He brought the glass of juice to her lips, coaxing her to drink some of it. She still seemed dazed, settling back on the pillow and mumbling incoherently.

"Dean, you're coming with me to the kitchen." He didn't protest as he followed his father out of the room in silence.

As soon as they reached the small space, John went for the cupboards, muttering to himself. "I guess it's a good thing I went for a grocery run a few days ago…who'd have thought we'd get snowed in like this in _October_."

Dean stood by quietly, watching his dad take out a half loaf of bread and a can of soup. John glanced at his son as he got out a can opener. "Well what're you just standing there for? Get the peanut butter."

Dean fumbled around until he eventually got the jar and put it on the counter. "Dad…?" he asked hesitantly.

John's back was turned as he dumped the soup into a pot. "What?"

"Um…are you still gonna teach them how to shoot and stuff?"

"Soon as the weather clears up."

Dean looked down, deep in thought. "Oh. But eight is kinda…" he trailed off, unsure what to say.

John looked up from spreading peanut butter on a piece of bread and turned to his son. "Dean, you were younger than them when I started teaching you, remember? They'll be fine. Might be a little scared at first but they'll come around."

"I…I know, Dad. I just thought they might not…be able to handle it. I mean they don't even really remember what happened to Mom and—"

"Listen. I'm not sure what your issue is with your brother and sister learning how to defend themselves, but let me worry about that. I trained you and I'll train them. Can't keep babying them when it's kill or be killed out there. Bad things happen, Dean. It doesn't matter if they're ready or not to the monsters. So I'm gonna do what it takes to get them prepared. I don't want to hear any more about this." John finished by roughly slapping the other piece of bread together and plating the sandwich. He pulled the soup off the tiny stove and sloshed it into a paper bowl. "Take that to your sister."

Dean trudged back to the room, feeling anxious. He stopped at the door when he heard Sam's voice muttering quietly. He peeked around the corner to see him kneeling by the bed. Head bowed and eyes closed. Dean leaned in to hear him whispering,"…make my sister better. And Dean's sort of a jerk sometimes, but he's still a good brother. So I hope you keep him safe. Oh yeah, and Dad. Amen." Dean blinked, shocked and guilty at the same time. This was the kid whose faith he was trying to crush.

He knocked quietly, just because he was already feeling awkward. Sam turned around, but Gracie had gone back to sleep.

"Uh, hey…" Dean held the food and gestured down with his head. "Brought Gracie's lunch. You eat anything yet?"

Sam shrugged to his ears, "Enough." He said coolly.

Dean wanted to glare, but held it in. Sam was playing _that_ game.

He ignored his little brother as he moved around the bed, and shook his sister by the shoulder. She groaned, but seemed to have a little more energy than she did the day before when she sat up and blindly reached for the food she knew Dean had for her.

She bit into the sandwich. "Peammut butter…" she said around a mouthful, smacking.

"Yeah, there's juice on the table if you need it."

Gracie reached for it without looking, her fingers brushing against the side of the cup and almost jostling it. Dean sighed, handing it to her before she could spill. After a long gulp, she stared down into the bowl of soup in her lap. "Tomato soup doesn't go with peanut butter…" she said finally.

Her elder brother frowned. "It does so." He argued. "And I'm pretty sure I've seen you eat pastrami between two donuts before when that was the only thing left lying around."

"That was _you_." Sam couldn't help himself from saying.

"Shut up," Dean said half-heartedly. It _was_ him, now that he thought about it, but that was beside the point. "Anyway, we're running low on options, so just…" he waved his hand at the cooling red soup. "Pretend it's something else if it helps."

Gracie sighed, spooning soup into her mouth with a blank expression. As soon as he'd made sure she was going to eat, Dean turned to Sam. "Don't bug her, okay? Dad wants her to rest up as much as possible. So go do your nerd stuff or whatever."

Sam made a face but didn't take the bait, and Dean guessed they were still playing _that_ game. Sam would crack eventually though. He left the room in a huff. Honestly, things were less complicated when the twins were babies. Sure they drooled, cried, and needed their diapers changed, but it was all pretty simple.

Eight years on and nothing was really simple anymore.

Dad was always gone, always hunting.

Sam was moody and opinionated.

Mom was just a memory.

And Gracie was struggling to fit in with other kids.

Now the twins would become hunters soon.

Yeah, he'd take the simpler times any day.

* * *

Her eyes flew open and she sat up with a gasp. For the first time in days, she felt…good. Not achy or weak or nauseous. She gingerly touched her own forehead and it didn't feel feverishly warm anymore. Blinking, she looked around the room and spotted Sam sleeping haphazardly on the other bed, half in and half out.

Gracie tried to remember the events of the last few days, but honestly memories came in blurred flashes. She was fine and then she wasn't. She was cold, and the faces of her family kept hovering over her.

All that seemed like a dream now. She kicked off her blankets and got out of bed. Sam stirred, and then rolled over and off the bed. The impact woke him up, and he rubbed his eye with a groan to see his sister up and trying to stifle a giggle at his expense.

"Gracie?" he asked tiredly. His brain slowly rebooted and he perked up. "Gracie!"

She was somewhat surprised when her brother got up and hugged her. He acted like he hadn't seen her in a while.

"Sammy, are you okay?" she asked slowly.

"It's more like are _you_ okay?" he countered. "You were really, really sick. Don't you remember?"

Gracie frowned, trying to piece together her memory of the last few days. "Sort of, but not really."

"Dean said you wouldn't…" he mumbled. For some reason he said that curtly.

"Were you fighting again?" Gracie asked. She was sick for a few days and without a mediator her brothers were going at it. Boys.

Sam didn't answer. He just gave an exaggeratedly slow shrug. She waited patiently for him to spill whatever was on his mind. Whatever Dean or Dad had said or done to make him upset. Predictably, Sam started talking.

"Dean said angels aren't real. But they have to be. How else is Mom gonna watch over us?" Sam asked rhetorically, his brows deeply furrowed.

"You think she's an angel?" Gracie asked quietly.

Sam looked at her with sad eyes. "You don't?"

She thought for a minute. Obviously it meant a lot to her brother to believe that their mom was still with them. She didn't want to say the wrong thing and hurt him more. And, Joshua never said people who went to heaven couldn't be angels. In Gracie's mind, there was no doubt that's where her mommy was. Smiling, she took Sam's hand.

There was the usual rush of emotions she now was positive weren't hers. Hope, sadness and confusion flooded into her. As always, it was overwhelming. But she tried to calm the tangled mess that represented Sam's feelings with the comfort of a clear mind. She had no idea if it worked both ways.

She didn't know if he felt what she felt like she felt what he did. No one had ever acted like they experienced the same thing she did at all. Just in case though, she tried to direct reassurance into the invisible link.

She looked into Sam's face, expecting him to still be wearing the same pensive expression. Instead she was alarmed to see him staring blankly at nothing, his eyes glazed over. Then, a dopey smile slowly spread across his face.

Shocked, she pulled her hand away, and just as quickly, Sam's expression changed again. He looked confused briefly before his face changed back into the same pitiful look. "Mommy's watching over us. I…I know she is." Gracie smiled weakly. It wasn't that she didn't believe what she was telling her brother, but whatever had happened with Sam was odd. She wondered if Joshua could tell her what it was the next time she saw him.

"Because she's an angel, and angels are real." he stated firmly.

Gracie nodded seriously. "Angels are real."

* * *

The snowstorm had finally subsided enough for the motel to start bringing in crew to help clear the piled up snow from in front of everyone's blocked doors. John peered through the blinds and sighed. "About damn time…"

He glanced behind him. All three of his kids were sitting around restlessly. Gracie was back up and it was almost like she'd never been sick. Sam wasn't sulking like he had been, and John put that down to being happy his sister was better. And Dean was unusually quiet…but he would leave dealing with that for another time. "We should be outta here soon."

"Can we stay for a little while longer?" Sam piped up, his big eyes pleading. "Til the end of the month at least?"

John knew how much Sam always hated switching schools. And while he'd be all too happy to put Scranton in his rearview mirror, he decided he could give the kids at least until the end of the month. A few more weeks…as long as another freak snowstorm out of season didn't happen, they'd be okay.

"The end of the month." John repeated. "Then we're back on the road."

That seemed to appease Sam, who smiled excitedly.

John figured he'd find a quick case or two. Nothing too extravagant. Maybe just a salt and burn, or a poltergeist. Something to pass time for a few weeks.

~SPN~

Being back at school was preferable in every way to being cooped up in a motel room. Especially because she wasn't sick. She had a feeling she was one of the only kids in the class to feel that way though.

"I'm glad to see everyone made it back to school safely." Mr. Valdez said. "We've got a lot to catch up on so let's get right to it. Could I get my class helper to pass out these worksheets?" Immediately, a tall girl near the back of the class stood up and slowly walked to the front. She didn't look particularly excited to be back at school either.

"Here you go, Rachel. One for everybody, okay?" Rachel nodded mutely and took the stack of papers, slipping one onto everyone's desk. When Gracie got her paper she looked down at it and blanched. Her dyslexia was back with a vengeance. Some days were easier than others, but Gracie could already tell it wouldn't be one of those days. She sighed loudly, resting her cheek in her palm and glaring down at the paper.

"This is just simple review." Mr. Valdez continued calmly, completely oblivious to Gracie's dilemma. "So we'll work on this for twenty minutes and then I'll collect it."

Panicking, Gracie blinked a few times and rubbed her eyes, trying to push herself to focus. Everyone else was doing the work with no problems, including Sam. But none of them were seeing what she was seeing. She took a few deep breaths, managing to get through the first question. The more she calmed down, the easier it got. She felt proud of herself when Mr. Valdez came around to collect the papers. He took it from her and quickly skimmed over her answers, a small smile lifting his lips as he added it to his stack.

It wasn't until he passed that she let out a breath of relief she wasn't even sure when she'd started holding. ' _Now I don't have to stay behind today._ ' There was a warm giddiness in her stomach at not having to stay in class late because she couldn't finish her work.

She rode the high of her accomplishment all the way until lunch time, when everyone all but stampeded out of the room. She was about to run for Sam, who was waiting for her in the hallway, but she was surprised by the warm hand firmly grabbing her by the shoulder. Surprised, she looked up at Mr. Valdez to see him calmly looking down at her. "Gracie, a minute please?" Gulping nervously, she turned to meet Sam's eyes. He'd moved into the doorway and was staring at his sister and their teacher in concerned confusion.

"It's alright, Sam. I'll send her down as soon as I can. I promise." Sam was clearly hesitant, but Mr. Valdez was a teacher. Teachers were trustworthy adults.

"I'll save you a spot." Sam whispered, leaving with the rest of their classmates.

As soon as he was gone, Mr. Valdez shut the door and returned to his desk. "Have a seat, please. I don't bite." he chuckled kindly.

She returned it with a weak grin, sitting in the chair next to his desk he'd pulled up for her.

She nervously met his eyes, because Daddy had always said it was the respectful thing to do. "Y-Yes, sir?" The reassuring smile hadn't left the teacher's lips as he leaned towards her.

"You know, you haven't been here very long. You or your brother." He said suddenly, catching her off guard. "Is everything alright? Adjusting okay?"

Gracie stared at him, her mind blanking over what to say. She'd been prepared for him to tell her she was falling behind in school, or she was in trouble for something—though she wouldn't have known what—but he was actually just…concerned about her? But if that was the case, why didn't he keep Sam back too? The thought flitted through her head that once Sam opened up, he was always better at adjusting than she was. He probably wasn't that worried about her brother not making friends or keeping up in class.

But Mr. Valdez was still watching her expectantly, clearly waiting on an answer. "Oh, um, y-yes sir!"

"Hmm." He hummed, his hands clasped on the desk. "That's good."

Some of the tension left her body. She wasn't in trouble. Mr. Valdez was just worried. It was alright. Everything was alright. But why didn't it _feel_ alright? There was something she felt, something she hadn't felt from him before the snowstorm. It scared her a little.

"And Sam, he's alright too?"

The feeling inside her persisted but she pushed it down. "I-I think so…"

"I know I'm your teacher, Gracie. But if something's wrong, _anything_ at all you can talk to me about it. If you don't understand something in class, or someone isn't being nice to you…if you or Sam are having problems at home…or see anything strange, I'll listen."

She jolted in her seat. "W-what do you mean?"

"Oh, you know, you're at the age where every shadow looks like something scary. Parents sometimes just don't understand."

Gracie tried to remain calm, even though she felt her heart pounding and her palms sweating. She tried to discreetly brush her hands on her tights, pressing her lips together into a thin smile. Mr. Valdez seemed oblivious to her discomfort.

"My big brother says scary things aren't real…" She said quietly, looking at her lap. She knew better, but she wanted to believe Dean more than she wanted to believe her own fear.

The teacher's eyes shined oddly. Gracie shyly peeked at him and for a minute, just a minute, she thought she saw something horrible. An ugly face and pitch black eyes. "Of course they aren't, but when you're young, that's not always clear." He said. "And sometimes," he took her hand, squeezing it with a bruising grip. "They are real."

"O-ow! That hurts!" she yelped, pulling her hand away. Alarmed, she clutched her throbbing hand close to her chest and stood up, terrified. Mr. Valdez was looking at her in concern.

"I'm so sorry, Gracie. I think I've scared you more than I helped you. I hope you'll still come to me if you need something."

She nodded vigorously. At this point she'd say anything to get out of the room. "Y-y-yes, sir..."

"Excellent. Well, go find your brother. I'm sure he's waiting."

The redhead didn't waste any time. She practically bolted for the door, fumbling with the doorknob before she got it open. Gracie didn't bother looking back. If she had, she would have seen the black eyes watching her, an eerie smirk on the man's face. "She's not one of his special children, but I definitely felt something. How interesting."

~SPN~

Sam tilted his head. His sister wasn't acting like herself. She wasn't all smiles and she wasn't as talkative as usual. She was jumpy, looking behind her at every corner, staring up every block with wide eyes.

"You okay?" Sam put a hand on her shoulder, and she screamed.

Dean had been walking a little ahead of them, but he turned immediately. When he didn't see a threat, his eyes landed on the twins in confusion.

"S-Sorry…" She smiled apologetically, clutching herself tightly.

"What's up with you?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"I…I just wasn't paying attention." Gracie explained lamely. "S-So when Sammy touched my shoulder it scared me."

Dean continued to stare skeptically and Sam frowned. "No, really!" she insisted. "I'm fine!"

It took a few minutes for her brothers to stop giving her questioning looks, and even then she didn't think they were really convinced. They started walking again without a word, but this time Sam took her mittened hand in his. She met his eyes and smiled gratefully. She still hadn't forgotten how strange Mr. Valdez had been. But would anyone really believe her if she said something? What would she even say? It could've all just been in her head. It had to be. Mr. Valdez was nice…he wasn't…some monster.

"Guess you're gonna be _real_ excited for Halloween." Dean said sarcastically.

Gracie felt her nose scrunch. "Halloween?"

"Yeah, it's only like a few weeks away, you know." He reminded her. "All this freaking snow makes it easy to forget it's October."

"Oh…" she breathed.

"Yeah, 'oh'." Dean rolled his eyes, now walking backwards with his hands behind his head. Gracie wanted to tell him he could slip and fall doing that.

"So anyway, I got invited to this really cool party." Dean continued. "The girl throwing it's the cutest one in class." He sighed happily.

"Daddy's gonna let you go?" Sam asked dubiously. Normally, John had Dean on babysitting duty, watching the twins in the motel all night. Sometimes, if Dean was in a good mood he'd sneak them out and take them trick-or-treating. But he always took a share of their candy as his "payment". Sam complained that most of the candy Dean took was his.

"I haven't exactly asked him yet." Dean admitted, grumbling. "But you guys are old enough to be on your own for a few hours, right? You'll be fine. And Lori's house isn't that far from the motel."

Gracie gripped Sam's hand tighter. She didn't want to be stuck in the hotel all night on Halloween. What if something bad happened? A real monster could come to the door in a costume!

"That's not fair," Sam complained. "What about trick-or-treating?"

Dean sighed. "Oh come on, Sam! Dad'll probably by a bunch of candy from the store or something. You can eat that."

"It's not the same." Sam pouted.

"Well can't you go trick-or-treating with some of your dorky friends?"

Sam shook his head. "Yeah, right. Like Dad would really let us." Dean stopped walking, glaring down at them. Well, really Sam.

"Don't be a bitch about this. It the first time I ever get to go to a Halloween party like a normal kid. If you ruin it for me I swear I'll sit on you and eat any candy you get in your face."

Sam mumbled something under his breath.

"What'd you say?" Dean snapped.

"I said you're a big, stupid jerk!"

Gracie listened to her brothers go back and forth, but she didn't have the energy to stop them. Besides, even if it was fighting, it at least brought a little normalcy back into her day.

Normalcy was good. It was what she needed to make her forget.

* * *

 **I have wanted to get this chapter finished for so, so long… So many things kept happening it almost felt like the universe was conspiring against me at times… *suspicious glances upward* I have 34 stories up right now, but I think secretly, this one is definitely one of my most favorites. It may not be as popular as some of my others fave/follow/review wise, but I put so much heart into it at this point, I can't help but feel attached. I love Gracie (and I know I'm biased) and I'm incredibly excited about the character I plan for her to become in the future. Also excited for all the twists and turns this story will take. I'm also super happy with all the Sam and Gracie moments in this chapter (and the ones that'll be in next chapter), so there's that~**


	10. Halloween

**Sorry for the delay! School, moods, holidays and everything got kind of overwhelming. Anyway, the hunter training will be in next chapter. I'm really excited for it, but since last chapter was a work up to Halloween, this chapter ended up being a Halloween themed filler. Sorry! To be fair, it was much closer to actually being Halloween when I started writing this…whoops.**

* * *

She sat on the end of the couch, her head resting on her arm as she stared at the flashing screen. They were lucky enough to catch a movie marathon of _Star Wars_ on TV and were halfway through the second movie.

"Pass the jellybeans, Sammy!" Dean said from the opposite end of the couch. Sam picked up the bowl and carefully fished out as many red and blue ones as he could find before giving it to his brother.

"Here ya go."

Dean grabbed the bowl and looked down into it with a frown. "Did you just take out all the best ones?!"

Sam snickered, tossing the handful of candy he had into his mouth and staring tauntingly at a fuming Dean.

Dean punched his brother in the shoulder. "You're such a little brat!"

Sam swallowed the jellybeans he'd chewed and hit Dean back. They started shoving each other, and Gracie sighed loudly. She carefully took the bowl of popcorn and started munching, doing her best to ignore the bickering happening right next to her.

But when a flying jellybean smacked her hard in the cheek she'd had enough. "Are we watching the movie or not?!" she shouted, annoyed. The boys stopped fighting and looked at her, wide-eyed. Her cheeks were puffed out and slightly red. Rarely did Gracie raise her voice in frustration.

"Uh, yeah…sorry." Dean scratched his nose.

Content, Gracie turned back to the TV. "You know," Dean said, stealing popcorn, "Han's totally cooler than Luke. Sure, Luke's got the Force. But he's basically a dork."

"You're just saying that 'cause Han's a jerk like you." Sam countered, eating more jellybeans. Then he turned to his sister. "Who do you think is better, Gracie?" she accepted the handful of jellybeans Sam offered her, chewing thoughtfully.

"Princess Leia." She smiled triumphantly.

The brothers shared a look.

"Can't really argue, I guess." Dean shrugged. "She _does_ kinda lead the Rebellion."

The siblings got quiet after that, watching without another word until the next commercial. Gracie got up for a bathroom break, humming the Star Wars theme song to herself. After she relieved herself, she pretended to practice with a lightsaber in the mirror. She kept swinging and making her own sound effects until there was a knock on the door.

"Gracie, c'mon, movie's coming back on!" Sam shouted.

"Oh!" She almost tripped over her untied shoelaces opening the door and running out.

She dove onto the couch, crashing into Dean. He dribbled the root beer he was drinking down the front of his shirt.  
"Gracie!"

Sinking down into her spot, she laughed. Sam joined them, reclaiming his place in the middle and reaching blindly for the bowl of candy again. She scooted it at him so it'd be within reach of his questing fingers. He hummed in thanks, stuffing his cheeks full of jelly beans, eyes only for the movie.

Gracie was happy like this, spending a Saturday watching TV with her brothers. Daddy was gone again, but he'd be back by Monday he said. Lately, things had been a little tense between Sam and Dean. Halloween was days away and Dean was determined to go to the party he got invited to. Sam didn't think it was fair. She tried her best to mediate, but it was tiring.

And anyway, she wasn't sure if she wanted to celebrate Halloween or not. Being alone in a motel room with Sam if something spooky came to the door scared her. Sometimes she wished she knew how to fight back. Then maybe all the monsters her mind told her lurked in the shadows wouldn't be able to hurt her.

"Grace…? Gracie!" She jolted, sitting up and turning to see Sam staring at her. "Can I have the rest of your root beer?" Looking down at the bottle she'd only taken a few sips from, she passed it to him, wiping the condensation on her tights.

Sam happily sucked it down while Gracie played with the edges of her top distractedly. Dean noticed and canted his head to the side. "Somethin' wrong?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Gracie…"

"I mean it. I'm fine."

Dean drew in a deep breath, trying to remain patient. "Well whatever…"

The siblings watched the movie in an easy silence until the next commercial break. There was a Halloween-themed candy commercial, and Sam suddenly straightened himself up.

"I still wanna go trick-or-treating…"

Dean glanced at him. "Yeah, and I still wanna go to Lori's party."

Gracie tensed, scared of an impending argument.

"You still haven't even asked permission anyway. How do ya know you'll get to go?"

"Sam, drop it, okay?" Dean snapped. "It's one freaking year I wanna get to be normal and go to a party! Trick-or-treating's not going anywhere."

Gracie took Sam's arm and squeezed lightly, a silent plea not to continue the discussion. Sam pouted, but it didn't look like he was done pestering Dean. "I know what you did with the money Dad gave us…" he said slowly.

Dean's glare was sharp. "Oh really, and what did I do?"

"You hustled with it." He and Gracie had learned what hustling was and how Dean had been doing it for a while. Dean always made them swear not to tell.

"And what're you gonna do if I did? Tell?"

Sam shook his head, smiling a little. "Nope. I won't tell…if you buy us Halloween costumes." Gracie blinked in surprise and Dean's jaw dropped.

"Are…are you trying to blackmail me?" he sputtered.

Sam stared at his brother owlishly.

The room was full of tension as the brothers continued glaring at each other. Gracie was ready to intervene before they started rolling on the floor hitting each other, but was surprised when Dean huffed abruptly.

"Fine! If you keep your mouth shut about me going to the party, I'll take you to get costumes." He stood up, stomping back over to the kitchen. "You're such a little shit." he grunted.

Sam didn't seem to care about the insult. His eyes were sparkling when he looked into Gracie's. "Now we won't be the only ones who don't have costumes!"

Gracie stared back in confusion. "For what?"

"The Halloween party, remember? Our class is having one."

She gasped. In truth, with the bad feeling she'd had lately, she'd all but forgotten about the class party.

"Y-Yeah," she said weakly. "It's gonna be fun…"

Sam squeezed her hand happily. Gracie could feel his excitement through their joined hands. For once, she was glad Sam didn't seem to be able to feel what she felt. If he could, he'd feel the deep pool of dread.

* * *

"Redheaded Leia! Rad!" The teenage girl working at the costume store who had been nice enough to pin up her hair, gave Gracie a thumbs up.

Gracie stared in awe at her reflection. She hadn't thought she'd pull it off, but Sam wanted them to have themed costumes, and since he was going to be Luke that left her as Leia. Not that she minded. Leia really was her favorite character. Fierce, brave, and everything she wasn't.

"We all set, here?" Dean asked impatiently. Sam adjusted his plastic lightsaber on the belt of his costume and grinned.

"Yep,"

Gracie knew their big brother was still a little grumpy that Sam had blackmailed him. Whatever blackmailing meant. Apparently forcing someone to do something they didn't want to do. She couldn't deny the thrill of being able to go to school in costume though. Usually, their dad would tell them no and that would be that. No Halloween costumes, just trick-or-treating in normal clothes. She spun around slowly, examining her reflection appraisingly. Grinning to herself, she stepped back, looking over at Dean with clear gratitude. "Do I look like her?"

The irritation melted from his face and he smiled slightly. "You look like a badass,"

It was the biggest self-confidence boost she could have asked for.

Dean was still reluctant when it was time to pay for the costumes, but he handed over the money and walked them out of the shop. They'd decided to pick them up on the way to school.

Gracie skipped ahead, feeling lighter for the first time in a while. Maybe all the things she was scared of were just her being silly. Even if monsters were around, she wasn't in anymore danger than on an average day. And she was alive and safe, so—She met the eyes of a man standing across the street and waiting for the light to change. For half a second, she thought his eyes flashed black and she gasped, stumbling backwards and falling. A car drove by, blocking her view of him. When she looked again, he was standing there normally, watching the light in boredom.

"Hey, what happened? You trip on your laces again?" she glanced back to see her brothers casually walking over, neither looking shocked or scared. She was seeing things. Again.

"I tripped on a crack," she muttered, getting up and checking to make sure her costume was okay.

"Tripping is like your superpower." Dean laughed. Gracie pouted at him, blushing as she turned away. She knew that she was clumsy. It hurt to have people rub it in, but they were right.

"Leave her alone, Dean," Sam defended. He turned to Gracie and offered his hand. "We can walk together if you want," She accepted his hand and stared down at their entwined fingers. Sam's calmness helped get rid of some of her anxieties. She lightly squeezed his hand, appreciating the way it felt in hers.

"Alright, let's get you dweebs to school," Dean pushed at the backs of their heads.

" _You're_ the dweeb today." Sam laughed. "Cause you're the one without a costume!"

"The party's later, so wearing one now would be sorta lame." Dean explained nonchalantly. "You'll get it when you're older."

"We'll be nine soon," Sam protested. "Stop acting like you're so much cooler."

"I am cooler, duh." Dean flicked the back of Sam's head. "That's big brother 101. If you're not cooler than your dorky little brother, you're not really the oldest."

"Then you're not the oldest,"

Sam was fast enough to duck the cuffing that followed, and he took off running down the sidewalk with Dean chasing after him. Gracie grabbed the edges of her costume, revealing her worn pink sneakers, and ran after them as fast as she could.

"W-Wait for _me_!" she wailed.

* * *

Sam stared down at the bag of candy sitting between them, grinning as he took a piece and popped it in his mouth. "We did good," he hummed.

Gracie's mouth was too crammed full of candy to answer properly. "Mm-hm!"

"It's all ours. We're not gonna share any with Dean." He held out his pinky to her. Gracie wiped her sticky mouth on the back of her hand, staring at his little finger hesitantly.

Dean _did_ say he was going to a party. And a Halloween party would have candy anyway, right? She eventually found herself making the pinky promise with Sam.

"So…you wanna go trick-or-treating later?"

Surprised, Gracie started choking on her jawbreaker. Sam immediately thumped her on the back until she spit it out, watching as it rolled across the ground. The twins looked at each other and then broke out laughing. When they stopped, Gracie canted her head, smiling a small, confused smile.

"We've already got enough,"

Sam fished into his bag and pulled out a sucker, unwrapping it. He stuck it in his mouth and swished it around thoughtfully. "We don't have to stay in the room just because Dean said so."

It took her a minute for realization to dawn. She stared at Sam with wide eyes. "You mean you wanna…." She cupped a hand around her mouth and leaned in, whispering, " _sneak out_?"

"Dean does it sometimes," Sam shrugged. "I know he does. We could do it too! We could go trick or treating by ourselves."

Sam looked so confident, she had a hard time not agreeing right away. There was a part of her that knew they'd get in so much trouble if they got caught. But what if Sam tried to go alone? Gracie didn't want to be by herself, and she didn't want to think about him being by himself either.

"Let's try it," she grinned nervously.

Sam's lopsided grin made it feel like she said the right thing, even if she knew sneaking out was probably wrong. Sam would be with her, though. They'd stick together, and be back before Dean.

 **~SPN~**

Gracie followed Dean's pacing form with her eyes. He turned to regard them with a cocky grin. "Well, cool, huh?"

"Who're you again?" Sam asked.

Gracie raised her hand, the way she would in class. "And how come you combed your hair like that?" she walked over to him, trying to stand on her tiptoes to poke at his carefully gelled head.

"I'm the Fonz!" Dean scoffed, moving away from her. "You know, from Happy Days?"

He rolled his green eyes at the blank stares. "Right, you guys never even saw those reruns, huh?"

"No…"

"Nuh-uh…"

"We can find it on TV Land later; I gotta get going. Lori's place isn't _far-far_ but I'm walking, so…"

"Have fun!" Gracie waved.

She watched as her older brother turned, eying her in confusion. "Have _fun_?" he repeated. "Isn't this the part where you beg me not to go?"

Embarrassed, she clapped a hand over her mouth. What if Dean knew what they were up to now? It'd be all her fault! He wouldn't leave, and then he'd be mad, and Sam would be too, and she would—

Sam flopped on to the couch, rolling onto his back, "You're gonna go anyway, so have fun." he offered dispassionately.

Gracie discreetly sighed in relief. Sam was so much better at this. At…hiding stuff from Dean.

Dean gave them one last look over before deciding it was safe to head out. "I'll try to be back by eleven, okay? Just keep the door locked. Gracie can make you guys something," He was halfway out of the room when he stopped. "I'll bring back cake," Gracie managed a weak smile. Dean was trying to be nice.

"Bye…" she said softly.

"Guess I shouldn't think about getting a bye from you." he told Sam.

Sam had turned on his side so that his back was facing them and his face was buried in the musty couch cushion. Gracie winced in sympathy.

"Whatever," he muttered, slamming the front door behind him as he left.

There was an awkward pause as Sam kept his face in the cushions, until suddenly, just when Gracie was starting to worry about him, his head popped up, a full grin on his lips. "Ready?"

Gracie stood at attention, saluting clumsily. "R-Ready!"

They had decided to stay in their costumes, telling Dean they weren't ready to take them off yet. Their big brother had been too anxious to leave to be too suspicious of it.

She took the pillowcases they had decorated at school and dumped all the candy they already had out.

Sam ran to the door of the motel, Gracie right behind him. He peeked outside and she could see the mostly empty parking lot from over his shoulder.

He cautiously crept into the fall evening, and she followed with her heart in her throat. Any minute she was half-expecting Dean to pop up from around a corner to say he hadn't really left and was just hanging around to test them. Or worse, the rumble of the Impala pulling up would send them scrambling back into the room. Neither happened, and she relaxed her tight knuckled grip on the cases slightly. "Here," she breathed, handing Sam his.

"Thanks," he rolled the sleeve of his costume up and looked at his plastic watch. "It's almost seven..." he mumbled, his eyes squinting in thought. "How far should we go? And what time should we come back?"

"Um," Gracie carefully scratched at her scalp so she wouldn't disturb the two intricate buns still in her hair. "Nine, maybe? If we stay too late it might be too dark to get back. I...I don't wanna be lost."

"We won't!" he promised. "This lightsaber can be a flashlight too." He pulled it off his belt loop and flipped it on, demonstrating. Sure enough, Gracie found herself squinting at the intensity of the LED light that came from the handle end.

"That's enough, Sammy! You're gonna blind me!" she squeaked, shielding her face.

Sam flipped it off. "Oops," he said sheepishly.

At least, Gracie thought in hindsight, Sam was better at not getting lost than she was. Flashlight or not, Dad had said he had a good sense of direction. She...well she could...she had the best... her thoughts faltered and she realized bleakly she didn't have a lot of cool traits. But she knew half of Daddy's phone numbers by heart. _That_...counted for something, didn't it?

"Where should we go first?" she wondered aloud.

"We can go to that neighborhood ten blocks from here!" Sam replied. "You know Cameron? He sits next to the pencil sharpener? He lives there, and he said he gets a lot of big candy bars every year."

Gracie had to admit that she was getting excited at the thought of chocolate. There was a lot of candy at the class party. More than enough for any kid. But they didn't get any candy bars, and daddy hardly let them have candy the rest of the year. Less candy meant less cavities and that was less reason to go to the dentist, or that was how John saw it.

"Let's get that chocolate!" she cheered. Feeling playful at the thought, she ran down the sidewalk, swatting his head as she passed him. "Race you!"

Sam gasped in feigned shock, laughing as he ran to catch up. It was only six in the evening. That meant not as many big kids around to compete with. Just kids closer to their age being chaperoned by parents or babysitters. Dean told them that cool kids trick-or-treated late at night when the little kids went to bed-and they did it alone.

Maybe they weren't old enough to go to parties at night like the cool, big kids, but they weren't babies either.

"You think Dean's having fun?"

Sam was caught off guard momentarily by the sudden question.

"I dunno, guess so."

Her shoulders slumped forward. "Maybe he has more fun with big kids his age. Maybe we're boring...or annoying to him."

They had stopped running, and under the streetlights, Sam could see his sister's face cast in a somber shadow. "Then we'll have more fun by ourselves," he promised. "Dean's gonna be the one missing out!"

Gracie lifted her head, "Really?"

"Yeah! Let's start at that brick house over there." he pointed to a two story house with a group of children gathering at the doorstep. The twins joined the group, and when the door opened, a smiling middle age couple peered out.

"Trick or treat!"

"Oh, how sweet!" The woman, wearing an apron streaked in flour, studied each costume, "We have a mummy, and a princess, and even movie stars! Let's not forget Luke and Leia," she winked, giving the twins a candy bar each.

"Have fun out there!" The man waved. The trick-or treaters left the porch giggling, Sam and Gracie following them to house after house. In a group, two children attracted less attention than they would alone, and all the parents trailing behind the group didn't seem to mind or notice.

When the children and their parents got in their cars to move onto the next neighborhood, Gracie and Sam stood on the sidewalk, looking at their cases of treats in awe.

"This is getting heavier! I can barely lift it," The little girl hefted it up to her shoulders to demonstrate before lowering it again.

"So whatcha wanna do? We got way more candy than I thought we were gonna..." Sam contemplated, picking up a Babe Ruth from his bag and unwrapping it.

She glanced down the street to see there were more teenagers out, whooping and playing around on their way to different houses.

"We could try one more house?" It came out as more of a question. Gracie thought they had more candy than they could eat, especially because they always shared. But she knew that Sam didn't really want to go back to the room.

The minute Sam's face lit up, she knew she'd said the right thing. "I saw one we skipped over back there." He took her wrist, dragging her down the sidewalk in excitement.

* * *

Dean couldn't believe he'd actually pulled it off. Normally he followed everything his dad told him. He'd pass on hanging out with friends because taking care of Sam and Grace were his priority. Protecting them made him feel needed, and after eight years it was hard-wired into him.

But sometimes, he wanted to do all the things John looked down on...go to parties, hang with guys at the mall and check out pretty girls, sign up for a school club or a team. That wouldn't fly by John Winchester though, not when he'd spent so much time training his son to hunt. At least it was just him right now, and not the twins...

He sighed, looking over at the kids partying in the living room to Monster Mash, snacking on pretzels and chips and gossiping about who had the best costume. Before he left, he'd get Sam some candy, and bring Gracie a piece of cake just like he said he would. They were probably bored in the motel.

"Hey Winchester," he looked up from the cup of punch in his hand to see Lori making her way over, a red headed girl wearing a Lara Croft costume at her side. "Liking my party?"

"Definitely," Dean grinned, admiring the way her I Dream of Jeannie outfit exposed her tanned stomach.

"This is my cousin Babs," Lori introduced, "She goes to another school. Just moved here last month, so I thought you two would have a lot to talk about."

"Hey Fonz," Babs winked. "Nice of ya to join us in the 90's."

Dean noticed the mischief in her blue-green eyes. A kindred spirit. "Back at you, Lara."

Lori gave them both a sly look. "Looks like you two are gonna hit it off, just like I thought."

"Looks like," Babs agreed. "So where'd you move from?" She leaned in, "I'm from Wisconsin."

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck, "Uh, my family sort of drifts around so I've lived all over."

"Military?" Babs asked sympathetically.

Dean noticed that Lori had disappeared. ' _Real subtle.'_

"Nah, but my dad travels for...work...a lot. It's kinda complicated."

Babs was nice enough to leave the topic it with a little half-smile. "What do you for fun when you _do_ get to settle?"

"That's easy, see what kind of trouble I can get into." he wiggles his eyebrows playfully. Babs laughed, lightly hitting his arm. "But usually? I mean, this might sound sort of lame...but I guess I watch out for my little brother and sister a lot."

"Aw," Babs cooed, "So you're a softie where it counts, huh? Good to know." She sipped her cup of punch. "I always sort of wanted somebody younger to look up to me...all I've got is a smelly older brother who always shuts himself up in his room. Tell me more about your siblings though; how old are they? What're they like?"

Dean couldn't believe he'd come all the way to a party thrown by a cool girl, and he was getting asked to talk about his brother and sister.

"Well their names are Sammy and Gracie. They're twins, so both eight. Sam is the mouthy one right now. Always talking back and asking a million questions. He's too smart for his own good sometimes." Dean didn't even realize the fond smile that had appeared on his face. "Gracie's... pretty goofy. She's all imagination, and she can be kind of clingy, but I guess it's cute, I dunno."

Babs laughed brightly. "It sounds to me like they've got you wrapped around their little fingers."

"Hey, keep it to yourself. We're not all born badasses like you." Dean joked, nodding at her costume. "Some of us have a reputation we're trying to keep."

Babs pretended to consider it. "Well alright. Wouldn't want people thinking the Fonz was a big ol' kitten...but! If I keep my lips zipped, then you've gotta come play a couple of party games with me!"

"You've got yourself a deal." Dean agreed. "I just hope the Tomb Raider's a good loser."

"The ultimate adventurer doesn't lose!" Babs shook her fist dramatically. "You're on!"

 **~SPN~**

Gracie tilted as far back as possible and gaped at the large house Sam brought them to. Blue, with a wrap around porch and shingled roof, she thought it looked like a house the Mystery Gang would go to on a Saturday morning episode of Scooby-Doo. It just wasn't sitting on a hill with lightning flashing behind it. Still, she felt the hair on her neck and arms raise. Beside her, Sam was practically buzzing with excitement, rocking on his heels. "How come I didn't see this?" she breathed.

Sam was already running up the paved path to the front porch. "Come on!" he called, motioning for her to follow. The last thing she wanted to do was set foot anywhere near the house, but she refused to let Sam go by himself. Gracie nervously trailed after him, her pillowcase scraping the ground as she dragged it with her.

"S-Sammy?" she swallowed a gulp, looking up at the eerie door-knocker in the shape of a screaming woman. "Is anybody...even home?"

Her brother looked back at her for the first time and noticed her hesitation. "It's okay." he assured, "If nobody's here, we can just leave."

"What if somebody is here?!" Gracie squeaked. "If they live in a house like this, they might be mean..." Sam's hand hovered over the doorbell, and he lowered it. Gracie realized she was shaking.

"We can head back to the room." he sighed. "Sorry."

She smiled, blinking back tears.

Sam turned, starting to head back down the stairs, and Gracie was right behind him, until she tripped on the welcome mat, her bag of candy flying from her hands. "Ouch!" she cried out, lifting herself up on her elbows.

"You okay?" Sam gaped, going to help her up.

"I hurt my knees," she whined, "But I can get up."

Sam continued to walk to her, only stopping when he noticed the door creaking open behind her. "Uh, G-Gracie?" His sister was sitting back and inspecting her knees with a frown. "Gracie!"

He watched in muted horror as a thin red carpet unrolled itself behind her and wrapped around her waist. She screamed, whirling around, but she was already being dragged through the door. "Sammy! Sammy!" she clawed at the doorframe, trying to find purchase, but as Sam ran to her, his own candy abandoned, she was yanked through the door, and it slammed in his face.

"Gracie!" he screamed in earnest, pounding and scratching at the door, desperately trying to turn the knob. Sam's breaths came in quick pants and he stepped back, realizing he'd gotten broken wood underneath his fingernails, probably a splinter or two. It didn't matter though. Gracie was gone. His first instinct was to find help. He didn't wan to leave her, but if he couldn't reach her, he had to get someone who could.

Any adult would be a skeptic. His family had drilled into him to be cautious when seeking out help from a stranger. ' _Dean!_ ' he thought. He had to get to Dean. His big brother would know what to do. But Dean was probably still at the party...and he wasn't really sure where that was. Panic started to seize him, and Sam felt like the whole world was spinning. ' _Find Dean, help Gracie!_ ' ran on repeat through his mind.

Suddenly, he remembered through the haze of his mind shutting down, that Dean scribbled Lori's address on a scrap of paper for them, even though he warned them they could only come get him if it was an emergency. Wide hazel eyes looked back up at the horrible house that had snatched his sister away. Gracie was an emergency. He took the steps two at a time, pounding down the sidewalk, determined to get back to the motel as soon as possible.

 **~SPN~**

Gracie sat up, her knees aching more than before as she looked around. It was dark, and the floor under her felt filthy. She lifted a hand to her throbbing cheek and hissed. When she'd landed...wherever she was...she'd landed hard on the side of her face, and her finger came away with something wet. She lifted it under her nose and sniffed. It was blood. Something cut her.

She crawled across the floor blindly, wincing when something sharp bit into her palm. She knew something was wrong with the house. She had felt it. "H-Hello?" she whispered. Although her heart beat with fear, if someone was there, watching, she wanted to know about it. About why they grabbed her. She wanted her brothers, or even her daddy.

And if she got back to the hotel room, she promised herself that she'd never, ever leave without permission again. When Dean told her to stay put, she would stay. The first step, was getting out. Gracie stood, ignoring what hurt and the grime on her hands. There was a little light, coming from a slowly burning candle, and high above her head out of reach, she saw what looked like the outline for a trap door. "Am I...in a basement?"

"Yes, and there's no way out now." Screaming, the redhead turned in the darkness, but there was no one there.

"Hello?! Hello!"

"Look in the mirror."

Her brows wrinkled in confusion. "Mirr...or?" Gracie squinted, stumbling through the dark with her hands stretched out in front of her. In the back of her head she tried to forget she was listening to someone she couldn't see. Her fingers finally touched something that felt a little like a tablecloth, and her small fingers tugged on instinct. A sheet fell to the dusty floor, and she was looking into a tall oval mirror.

She could make out the faint outline of her reflection in its surface, unblemished by time. Her finger reached out to skim it, and she was startled when it made the image ripple, like a reflection in a pond. Scampering back, she watched someone else take shape in the mirror. An older girl with braided hair, a red blouse and overalls falling off her shoulders.

Gracie bit into her knuckles to keep from screaming. "The house took you. Just like it took the rest of us, and soon, you'll become a part of it."

Unable to stop herself, her teeth released her fisted hand, and she spoke."B-But... I just want to go back to my brothers!"

"I know," the girl sighed, and even though it was hard to see, she looked sad. "We all had somewhere we wanted to go back to. We all tried to get out. But this house doesn't let you. It catches you and absorbs you into furniture or walls."

Shuddering, Gracie fell to her knees, arms wrapped around herself. She didn't want to believe what she was hearing. But how else could a person be stuck inside a mirror if it wasn't true?

* * *

Dean hadn't looked at the clock in a while, so he didn't really know how long he'd been at the party, but it didn't matter. He had hit it off with Babs, and their friendly competition throughout the night over party games had turned into them laughing against each other on the couch, people watching the rest of the crowd at the party.

The partying had died down. Some of the kids had left, but there were still plenty dancing or talking or trying to kiss secretly in the corners.

"Okay, you see that guy?" she whispered. She was pointing to a lanky kid in a Martian Man Hunter outfit.

Dean laughed under his breath. "Yeah?"

"Well," Babs' smile widened. "I bet you, whenever he steps in a puddle outside he has to stop himself from drinking it."

"What? That's so nasty!" Dean shoved at her shoulder.

" _Look_ at him Dean," Babs motioned, "Are you really telling me somebody like Slim over there doesn't have bird habits?"

Dean studied him hard and burst out laughing. "Yeah, you got me there."

Lori suddenly ran up to them, looking concerned. "Hey Lori, nice one, introducing us...what's wrong?" Babs frowned at her cousin's expression.

"There's a...a little kid here. He says he's Sam and he's here for his brother, Dean."

Dean's face fell slack and he stood up. "You have got to be kidding," he muttered. A hundred different ways to kill Sam ran through his head.

"He's waiting in the front foyer, c'mon!" Dean followed Lori on autopilot, hardly noticing Babs take his arm and come too.

Sure enough, his little brother was standing there, still in costume, but fidgeting more than he'd ever seen him before. When they caught eyes, Dean immediately noticed how much Sam's were dilated. The tongue lashing he'd fixed in his head died right then and there, and the next words out of his mouth were due to the distinct absence of their sister. "Where's Gracie?"

The name made Sam go squirrely as his eyes kept darting to Dean and then back to the door. "We...We left the room to go trick-or-treating, and we went to this one house, and she...she got sucked inside and...! And I need...!"

"Whoa," Lori placed a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder. "The little guy's hyperventilating. My mom's a nurse, so she's told me about this."

"Sammy, look at me and breathe, okay? Just calm down..."

Sam closed his eyes tightly and took a few deep breaths as the girls and Dean coached him through it. When his eyes opened again, they were shining wetly, and his lip wobbled. "It's my fault, Dean...she didn't wanna go to the house, but I told her we should, and the next thing that happened...she was gone."

"Where is she now, Sam?" Dean was surprised it wasn't him that asked, but Babs.

"I-In the big blue house at the end of the block in another neighborhood."

Dean cursed under his breath. Lori squeezed his arm in support. "No worries Dean, Tara just got her license, so she'll drive you."

"Tara?" Dean asked slowly.

Lori was once again leading them, but this time it was upstairs. "Tara's her big sister." Babs explained quietly. Dean nodded in understanding, watching Lori bang on a door plastered with a strange combination of rainbow stickers and caution tape.

"Yo, open up Tara!" Lori keep banging and screaming, and Dean was more grateful than ever her parents weren't hope.

The door finally opened to reveal a girl with the same blonde hair as Lori's holding a CD player and wearing a Metallica tee-shirt, black skirt, and deep blue lipstick. She took the headphones off, surveying the visitors in her doorway with barely concealed annoyance. "What?" she snapped.

"We need a ride."

Tara's eyes narrowed. "No." She began closing the door but Lori caught the edge and glared back just as fiercely.

" _Yes_. Or I tell Mom and Dad all about what I saw you doing with Toni in the poolhouse."

Tara's eyes widened, her nostrils flaring angrily. "How'd you know about that?"

"Are you gonna ask me that, or are you gonna risk them knowing you kissed-"

"Just shut up and give me a sec. You and your stupid little friends better be fast."

Tara slammed the door in their faces, and Lori smirked triumphantly, turning back around to wink at Dean. "So you've got your ride now."

Dean could only stare at her in awe. "Wow, I thought that was just a costume, but you really do grant wishes."

Lori blushed. "It's easy when you know what buttons to press."

* * *

"That won't work!" Gracie ignored the voice of the mirror girl she now knew was called Emma-Jane. She'd used all her strength to stack as much as possible into a pile so she could climb it in order to reach the little string on the small trap door that would let her pull her way to freedom.

"If it's not gonna work then at least let me try!" she grunted, starting to climb. The pile of random junk she found shook but held her weight, so Gracie attempted to hoist herself up higher. She had only climbed a few more inches before the pile gave out and she crashed to the ground with it.

Her head bounced hard against the floor, and new pain bloomed in her skull.

She sat up groaning.

"Why are you so determined?" asked a quiet voice from the corner. The mild face of a plain woman stared back at her from the peeling, patterned wallpaper. After getting use to the faces of people popping up everywhere in the dark, it made it easier to focus on escaping. "We are only telling you for your own good dear. It's sad such a small child is now trapped here, but please, just accept it. We all have."

"I...I wanna see my family again. My brother Sammy's gonna try to find me, and so will Dean. If they don't give up, it's not fair if I do." The first fifteen minutes alone in the dark she spent curled up in a ball, crying in self-pity. But as the seconds in the dark kept ticking by, she became more and more determined to free herself, despite what all the doubtful souls said.

"Maybe, it's best if she figures it out for herself what we mean..." Emma-Jane sighed.

"Indeed," a tall man with a pipe hat and the bushiest mustache she'd ever seen nodded from the ancient looking grandfather clock.

The room was quiet, Gracie dragging chairs and boxes together, preparing to try again.

She was on a mission, sweat trickling down her face as she exerted herself with the heavy furniture.

That was when she heard noises from above, and a long bang like something being kicked in. Freezing, she tilted her face to the ceiling, listening hard.

"Gracie!" It was faint, but she'd recognize the voice anywhere.

Hope bubbled in her heart, and she almost leapt for joy. "Dean!" she screeched. "Dean! Dean! Sammy!"

"...Gracie?!"

"Dean!" she could hear footsteps rushing overhead.

"Down here!" Sam called.

"Just a second...damn it! What the hell is wrong with this door?! It's like I can't get a hold on it." Even while Dean yelled in frustration, Gracie waited restlessly to be found. It was only a matter of time.

"Here," said an unfamiliar voice. "Use this."

"You...you just bring a hammer with you?"

"I grabbed it on the way out. Just in case. Now you gonna take it or not?"

"Right," Dean grumbled, and then knocking on the trap door started up, and Gracie hopped back and forth from one foot to the other. She started scrambling to stack furniture again, and when Dean managed to make a hole in the door and wood fell down from above, she side stepped a piece.

"Sorry!" he called. "You okay down there?"

"Yeah!" And despite all the bruises and pains she'd endured, she meant it.

"I don't believe it..." Emma-Jane whispered. "Someone actually _came_ for her. And the for some reason the house is letting them."

"I told you," Gracie almost wanted to stick out her tongue, but instead she climbed higher on the furniture she'd stacked, watching happily as Dean continued to chip away the trap door, until his head and arms popped through.

"Gracie, there you are!" A burst of sharp light appeared over his shoulder, like someone was holding a flashlight.

"Ouch, Babs!"

"Shut up and grab her!" Dean reached out his arms, and Gracie had never been so ready to jump into them in all her life. She leapt at Dean and he caught her under the armpits just as the stack she'd been standing on collapsed again.

Her breathing didn't even out even when she was safely wrapped in Dean's arms, and he was squeezing her tight.

"What the hell was that?" he whispered into her hair.

"Scary," she told him.

"You can say that again,"

Sam charged them, and the three Winchesters fell over in a pile, Sam almost crying as he babbled at her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and let him press the side of his face onto the top of her head.

"So...this is Gracie, huh?" a girl with dark red hair peered over Dean's shoulder. "I'm Babs. Sorry we had to meet like this, but I'm glad these guys got you back. We were worried, ya know?"

The younger redhead smiled shyly. "T-Thank you,"

"Aw, look at those dimples!" Babs squealed, gently pulling at her cheeks. "Let's get outta here. This whole situation is too janky, even for Lara Croft."

"I hear that," Dean got up and brushed himself off, taking her firmly by the hand and leading her down the hall. There was a car waiting at the curb outside, a grumpy looking teenage girl behind the wheel.

Dean made Sam get in after Babs, and then Gracie piled in with them before Dean followed. "Just for the record," he said, "You guys are in so much trouble when we're back at the motel."

Gracie beamed at him. "Thanks Dean!"

Dean was utterly confused.

* * *

 **I'm back, and I was determined to post this chapter _tonight_ no matter what. **

**Well I got behind on Supernatural due to my schedule, and so I'm still on early season 12. But I know from unsolicited spoilers that apparently some fan favs are dead, they made Mary a "horrible mother and the fandom hates her", and season 13 Dean is making fans hate his character. Eh. What else is new…? I'm not nearly far enough into this story to have to deal with any of that stuff yet, if I do at all. I may just pick and choose what info suits me and this story.**

 **Please review—it's appreciated.**

 **Also, thanks for being patient. Life has been hard and busy lately. But I will continue to make time for this story, because I've grown attached to it. I also don't see the next chapter taking long to post, crossing my fingers. It'll be based around the flashbacks of A Very Supernatural Christmas and also have my own spin, of course.**


	11. The Beginning of an End

John turned the heat up, glancing in the rearview mirror. Gracie and Sam were leaning against each other, both asleep as he drove through the Nebraska state line. Dean was drifting in and out next to him, the map in his hands starting to slip from his grip. He reached for a sip of coffee, long cold, and sat it down with a sigh.

It'd be nice if the kids were old enough to drive. He wouldn't mind switching out with them on long trips like this one. Nine hours on the road, and he'd managed to keep going without stopping, mainly with the aid of some black coffee and determination to get to the next hunt. Dean grumbled, officially asleep. It was hard to believe, but in a month he'd have a thirteen-year old son. A teenager…

Maybe he could give Dean a chance behind the wheel. That was about all he could offer him for a birthday present. John was perfectly aware of how unconventional his parenting would look to most people, but he was a hunter, not a PTA dad. Any hopes of that had died in the fire. Now he raised his kids on the road and didn't look back.

They had to know what was out there, and they had to know how to stop it. That was the only way to make sure they didn't end up like some of the poor saps he'd encountered who had their lives wrecked by the supernatural. And he damn sure wasn't going to let them end up like Mary.

The car hit a bump in the road, and Dean's head knocked against the window. He stirred, slowly picking up his head and looking around. "Dad?" he yawned, "We here already?"

John's eyes squinted in the darkness of the wee hours of the morning. "Yeah, Dean. We're here."

Dean didn't say anything else, just settled back in his seat, head leaned to the side. That was the good thing about having a kid old enough to really understand what he did. Sam…Sam asked too many questions. The older he got, the harder it was to brush him off. Gracie wasn't as persistent, but she gave him her fair share of curious stares now too. Sometimes he swore she tried to read over his shoulder when she walked up on him while he wrote in his journal.

Despite that, he was confident that Sam and Gracie were in the dark about the supernatural. They wouldn't be for too much longer though. Kids were just too damn smart and too damn curious for their own goods. Either he'd sit them down and give it to them straight, like he had with Dean, or they'd grow up to find out the ugly way. There were two ways it would go. They'd settle into it and adapt, like their brother, or fight it, and maybe even hate him one day. But it didn't matter. It was the best thing he could do for them. To prepare them.

* * *

Gracie stepped out of the car with a yawn, stretching as she got her first glance at their new temporary home. A motel. Nondescript and not much different than any of the others they frequented. The real question was what it looked like on the inside.

She had learned in her short life that since she spent most of the time stuck inside the room, it was the interior that mattered most. The Winchesters had stayed everywhere from ratty hole-in-the-walls that made her sleep with one eye open—or she tried, but would reluctantly end up shutting both eyes in fear that her face would stick that way—to relatively clean, decent rooms that smelled like the maids at least cleaned the carpets sometimes.

When her dad unlocked the door she took her bags and shuffled inside along with her brothers. Someone turned the light switch on and she blinked, her eyes adjusting slowly. It was hard to say but the room looked decent enough. It didn't matter, because all she really wanted to do was get back to sleep. "Go ahead and change," John told them.

Sam and Dean gave each other looks, nonverbally communicating who would get in the bathroom first. Sam took off like a shot, slamming the door in Dean's face and leaving him cursing a blue streak under his breath. Gracie didn't even bother to join in. She was too tired and sprawled across one of the beds, leaning on her pack.

John didn't look like he'd be getting ready for bed yet either. He had already taken up residence at the other bed, setting his bag down beside him and looking pensively down at his journal. Shyly, she got up to join him, and he glared up at her, snapping it shut. Gracie didn't mind. She was use to her father's secretiveness. "Daddy?"

"What Gracie?"

"It's…it's almost Christmas."

"Yeah?"

Working up her courage, she latched onto his arm, leaning her head on him. "Are we gonna all be together this time?" she asked. John stiffened, looking down at her cautiously.

Dean leaned against the bathroom door, silently watching.

John sighed deeply. When the large hand came down and patted her head a few times, Gracie had to hide a frown. That wasn't the answer she wanted. "We'll see." Her lip found its way between her teeth. "You just worry about being good, alright?"

Dejected yet again, it was all she could do to nod. "Okay…"

"Good girl." John patted her leg and stood. The motel door opened and closed, signaling his exit.

Dean slowly came over and Gracie felt the mattress shift as he sat beside her… "He'll be here."

The younger Winchester lifted her head, peeking up at him through her bangs. "How do you know?"

To her surprise, Dean wrapped her in a gentle hug. "Because he knows we're all waiting for him."

Gracie thought about it. Her last teacher had a poster on the wall that said "Home is where someone is thinking of you." If she and Dean and Sam all thought hard enough, would John make sure he was with them on Christmas day? It left some doubts in her head, but for the moment, she wanted to believe that was enough.

* * *

Loud knocking sounded on the bathroom door. "Gracie, what happened? You fall in? Get outta there!" The girl in question sat on the closed toilet seat, busily trying to wrap the small trinkets in her lap. The bathroom felt like the only place she could get any privacy sometimes. It was definitely the only place she could wrap her family's Christmas gifts. All she had was newspaper and tape, but thanks to Bobby slipping her money here and there every time she went to his house and did chores, she could afford presents this year. They could have a semi-normal Christmas.

"Gracie, seriously, get out!" Eying the door, Gracie sighed and stood up. The wrapping wasn't perfect, but with Dean banging on the door for the last ten minutes it was sort of hard to concentrate. Figuring she'd tested her brother's patience enough, the redhead gathered the presents in her arms and carefully unlocked the door.

Dean was waiting with his arms crossed, glaring down at her. "Move!" he barked.

Gracie stepped aside, a little glad he was so impatient to get in the bathroom he didn't notice the packages. As the door slammed, she wandered back into the main room to see Sam sitting in a ratty chair in front oof the TV, watching Christmas specials. Quickly moving to her bag and stowing away the wrapped things, she joined him, soundlessly sitting down in the same chair.

"What was that about?" he asked distractedly.

"Nothing," she countered with a nervous laugh. "What's that by your foot?" she pointed down to a mess of newspaper.

"Nothing." Sam said just as quickly.

They reached a mutual understanding not to pry too much into what the other was doing.

The more absorbed Gracie was in the TV, the less she paid attention to Sam quietly picking up the newspaper and wrapping again. The adventures of the characters on the screen were more exciting, even if she saw the same specials every year.

"What is that?"

She jumped as Dean came back from the bathroom. Sam didn't look too concerned. "A present for Dad."

"Yeah right," Dean threw himself down on the couch. "Where'd you get the money? Steal it?"

Sam stopped wrapping, making a face. "No. Uncle Bobby gave it to me to give to him. Said it's real special."

That piqued Gracie's interest some. Uncle Bobby thought of everything. Even made sure Daddy would have a good gift to open on Christmas day. That made her feel good. Nobody would get left out.

"Well what is it?" Dean leaned forward to try to see what Sam was wrapping.

"A pony," Sam quipped.

"Very funny," Dean scoffed. "Don't tell me then," he added under his breath. "Not like I care…" He started to thumb through a magazine idly.

A few minutes passed with Sam's wrapping and the TV being the only noise in the room. Unable to stand the silence any more, Gracie picked her head up from where it was resting on her drawn knees, and looked over at Dean. "Daddy's gonna make it in time, won't he?" Because a Christmas wouldn't really be Christmas without him.

Dean looked over the edge of his magazine. "He'll be here," he reassured.

"It's Christmas," Sam reminded.

"He knows that and he'll be here. Promise."

Lately, it seemed like Daddy was around less and less. When he came back he was either grumpy or tired. He'd stay for a while and then be gone again. But, Gracie could never remember him missing a Christmas. He always made it back. Even if he was tired and bruised, he was there. That alone was enough to make her feel a little better. The idea she had in her head of cooking for her whole family and opening presents made her heart lighter and warmer.

"Where is he anyway?" Sam asked.

Gracie knew what Dean would say, because it was the same thing he always said. But, she was still curious to know.

"On business," her big brother answered. The same answer. Always.

"What kind of business?" Sam pressed, the present in his lap almost forgotten.

"You know that," Dean sighed. "He sells stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" Sam continued. In her head, Gracie thought it was a good question. Kids in her class had parents who 'sold stuff' too, but it was always specific stuff. Not just stuff-stuff.

"Stuff." Dean ground out.

Apparently, her daddy was the only person in the universe to sell _stuff-stuff_.

"Nobody ever tells me anything," Sam frowned.

"It's not like I get told anything either," Gracie added quietly.

"Then quit asking." Dean marched off, moving food wrappers and sitting on the bed he shared with Sam, further away than he was on the couch. John insisted Gracie should have the other one to herself. It was really his bed, but since he was never around to use it, Gracie could sprawl out without any problems.

"…Is Dad a spy?"

The little redhead perked up. "Is he, Dean?" she asked. "Is that why we move so much? So the bad guys can't find us?"

Dean thought about it. "Yeah…yeah he's like James Bond."

Before she could get too excited, Sam burst her bubble. "He's just messing with us, you know…"

She frowned. Daddy being away all the time because he had to spy, was a good enough reason that she'd been ready to accept.

"But how come we _do_ move around so much?" Sam questioned. "None of my friends ever move the way we do…some of them have been living in one place their whole lives! But I don't even remember what the first placed we lived was like…"

"Sam," Dean dropped his magazine in frustration. "We move 'cause we do, and you just gotta get use to that."

"But—"

"No," Dean groaned, laying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling.

"We're old enough now," Gracie said quietly. "Can't you tell us the truth?"

"You don't wanna know the truth, Grace…believe me." There was something so defeated in her brother's tone, Gracie was momentarily taken aback.

Sam, unable to feel what she felt, stared at their brother expectantly. When Dean didn't say anything else, he tilted his head, whispering, "Is that why we never talk about…Mom?"

"I told you as much as you need to know about Mom. She was great." He laughed a little, turning on his side.

"How come…how come she's not here with us?" Sam pleaded.

Dean sat straight up. "Sam, drop it. I told you already…we're not gonna talk about that?"

"How come, Dean? It's not fair! You know and Dad knows so why can't me and Gracie?"

Sam was shaking so she grabbed his hand. It wasn't like she didn't feel the same. The anguish flowing into her could have just as easily been her own.

All she had was a faceless image of a woman in her head. One who supposedly loved them more than anything, but who wasn't around. Since she was old enough to understand what a mommy was, she wondered why they didn't have one. But as much as Dean talked about what he remembered her being like, he refused to tell them just what had happened. Only that she died.

"Where are you going?" Sam demanded as Dean started to put his shoes back on.

"Out," he replied, lacing them up and storming toward the door.

"Dean, wait!" Gracie released Sam's hand and stood.

"Just stay here. I need time by myself." He ordered, and she shrunk back as he slammed the door.

Quiet descended over the room. Gracie fidgeted in place while Sam stared at the door. Plastering on a weak smile, Gracie turned to her remaining brother, "I-It's okay…he won't be gone a lo—what're you doing?" she watched in disbelief as Sam made his way over to the bed she'd been sleeping in, crouching on the floor.

"Dad keeps some of his stuff under here, right?"

"Y-Yeah?" Gracie walked over, wringing her hands. "Sammy, don't touch that!"

Sam paused, furrowing his brow. "Why not? Don'tcha think it's unfair? Dean knows and Dad knows…but when do we get to know? We're not babies!"

"I wanna know too…about Mama. About where Daddy goes…but if we look in his stuff we'll be in a lot of trouble!"

"Then I'll just put it back where I found it…" Sam reached under the bed once again, grabbing the strap of one of John's extra duffle bags. Pulling it out from under the bed, Sam immediately reached for the zipper. In a final attempt to protect her brother from whatever was inside, Gracie dropped to her knees beside him and grabbed his wrist.

"Sammy, please!" she bit her lip.

It looked like Sam was considering dropping it, leaving it all alone. But then he gave her a sad smile and shrugged her hand away. "Sorry," He quickly unzipped the bag and rummaged through the extra shirts their dad had packed. Though her heart was hammering, Gracie was beginning to feel a small spark of hope that he wouldn't find anything other than John Winchester's spare flannels.

That was, until she heard his soft gasp, and he pulled out something that made her mouth go dry. "Hey," Sam said excitedly, "It's Dad's book!"

The blood in her veins felt cold like snow, her eyes alight in worry. "Sammy, put it back!"

"I just wanna take a look inside…" He started to open the cover, and without thinking, she pounced, terror spurning her to wrestle her brother for the book.

"Hey!" Sam squawked from underneath her, jerking it back towards his chest. "Stop it!"

"No, you stop it!" Of all the reasons to fight with Sam, she had never guessed it'd be over Dad's book. The one he always had with him. Fleetingly, she wondered why he left it in the first place, but getting it away from Sam was her current priority, and so she continued to tug, even as they rolled across the carpet and she felt Sam's short nails starting to dig into the sensitive underside of her wrist.

"Why are you trying to keep it from me like they do?" Sam cried. "You're supposed to be on my side!"

"I am!" Gracie screamed back.

"No you're not!" Sam shoved her away, and she fell onto the carpet, stunned.

It hurt more than she thought it would, falling on the thin carpet. Sometimes Gracie forgot Sam was way stronger than he looked. He glared down at her, red faced and panting, but holding onto the book. The betrayed look in his eyes was worse than the small bump on her head.

Gracie could feel unshed tears prickling her eyes as Sam ran to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him.

* * *

His hands shook as he stared at the moleskin cover. Ever since he could remember, going through Dad's stuff was a sure fire way to get punished. No one went through Dad's bags…but Dad. And his journal was the ultimate, off-limits thing he owned. The longer Sam sat on the toilet seat, waiting for his breathing to return to normal, the more doubt ran through him. Gracie was desperate to stop him. Just like Dad and Dean kept dismissing him. Something was up with the journal…and no one in his family trusted him enough to let him know what it was.

Well, Gracie just wanted to stop him from getting in trouble. Maybe she thought Dad would blame her too if she didn't at least try to stop him. But that probably wasn't it. His sister didn't do a whole lot of thinking for herself. When she was worried, it was always more for someone else's sake. His. Dean's. Dad's…

Gulping nervously, Sam tried to think of what he might find inside the book. He was almost tempted to put the book back. But if he did that, there might not be another chance again. If Gracie told Dean, Dean might tell Dad… He'd be in trouble either way. And if he was bound to get in trouble, he wanted it to be because he actually _did_ something. Dad would never tell him. Dean would keep avoiding him and getting angry when he asked.

As if by magic, the journal opened to the first page, and he was staring at an entry with a date marked for close to nine years ago. It was in Dad's writing, of course, and the beginning sounded like something from a monster movie.

" _It's been three days since the fire. I've made all the arrangements, and told Dean that Mary's not coming back. But I see her every night screaming, burning. Something's not right. Everyone thinks I'm just out of my head with grief, and maybe I am. Still doesn't change what I saw. How the hell does someone end up burning to death, pinned to a ceiling? I've started looking around on my own…"_

Sam paused to absorb what he just read. The date said it was from November 6, 1983. That meant that his mom had died on November 3rd. Suddenly, Sam remembered how distant Dad was around that time every year. Dean was quieter then too. He didn't crack as many jokes and he got upset easier. Gracie read the mood and made herself scarce. She'd always listen when he complained about Dad and Dean being mean for no reason. Now he knew why. That was the day his mom died. His mom that Dean and Dad loved so much.

Flipping to another page, Sam picked up reading on another entry. This one detailed that Dad had been at the library for weeks, searching through stuff about the occult. Unfamiliar as he was with exactly what that meant, he started to get an understanding that Dad was so upset he couldn't let it go. He was frustrated every time he got more questions than answers, but he kept saying he was determined to get to the bottom of it all.

Then one page featured a name Sam recognized very well… Bobby Singer.

' _Uncle Bobby!_ '

Uncle Bobby told Dad more about what he was looking into. John Winchester finally had his answers, and that only encouraged him. The pages afterwards said that he had concluded Mary was killed by a monster. Sam quietly shut the book. He had seen enough. The bathroom was suddenly too small, too quiet. Dean made their mom sound like she loved them a lot. When he was little, he had wondered if she really did.

Sam sometimes fell asleep making wishes on shooting stars that she'd come back to them. Just turn up at the door and hug them like she'd never let them go. Shed make cookies when they got good grades, never miss or forget a birthday like Dad, tuck them in every night, take them swimming or bowling or…or any of the places Dad never had time to take them. She'd be perfect, just like Dean confirmed she was. That was what he'd hoped. Before he knew better. Before he even knew she was dead, and not just gone.

Heavy-hearted, he realized all that was impossible. Dean had said she'd died, and even then, Sam thought it was funny they never even went to her grave. Not even once. Didn't you bring flowers to graves? Who was bringing his mom her flowers? He had the answer to that too. No one. Anger surged through him when he thought how long John had been keeping them in the dark. It was their mom and he never even bothered to tell them what had happened to her!

It didn't matter anymore though. Sam still found out. Gracie was the only one left in the dark. "I…I have to tell her." he whispered aloud. The thought made his heart feel like it had melted to slush and sank to his feet.

Shuffling to the door, he unlocked it and peeked out, the journal tucked under his arm. The room was quiet except the background noise of the TV, still flashing from in front of the couch. Sam slipped out of the bathroom, looking for his sister.

"Gracie?" he asked, unsure if he really wanted a response. It would be better if she got mad and left like Dean did. But that wasn't like Gracie at all.

She was still sitting curled up on the floor at the foot of the bed when he found her. Her chin was resting on her knees, red hair curtaining her face. Feeling guilty, he sat next to her. "Hey…"

"Hi…" she returned, looking at him with sad gray eyes.

"Um, I read this…I mean some of it." Sam explained, showing her the book.

Her eyes brightened, but not with anger or happiness or even disappointment. With fear. For him. "Are you okay?" she took ahold of his arm, staring into his face. The guilt gnawing away inside just grew.

"I'm…I'm really sorry." His gut twisted. "I shouldn't have pushed you…"

Gracie leaned back, blinking. "Yeah…" she finally said. "But s'kay. It doesn't hurt that much," Sam knew that even if it did, she would downplay it. She always downplayed hurting.

"I'm still sorry I did it." Sam pecked her cheek apologetically. "You were right. Goin' in Dad's stuff was bad." Turning and getting on his hands and knees, Sam dragged John's duffle back out and put the journal back wear it belonged, zipping it shut and then shoving it back under the bed. "There,"

"I promise I won't tell." Gracie said after a beat.

"Huh?"

"I'm not gonna tell on you, Sammy. I mean, I get it. I wanted to know too…but I was too scared." She sighed, long and loud.

"Maybe that's smarter…being scared I mean."

Brows pinching together in confusion, Gracie canted her head. "How come?"

Nibbling his bottom lip, Sam took her hand, squeezing her fingers. "In…in the journal, it said what happened to our mom…"

Sitting there, staring off into space, Gracie made no sign she'd even heard. "What happened?"

"The journal says…the journal says a monster got her."

A silent tear leaked from one downcast eye, and Sam wished more than ever he'd never looked into the book.

* * *

Dean came back a while later, carrying bags from a convenience mart. "Thought you went out," Sam mumbled, hardly looking up from his comic book.

"Yeah," Dean rummaged around in the bags he'd brought. "To bring you guys back some dinner." That was it. There wasn't going to be any awkward mentioning of what had happened an hour or two ago. Dean had come back…with food. That was about as much of an apology as the eldest sibling would give his younger brother. Gracie came over from her place sitting and reading her cooking magazine—or trying to—as Dean tossed them junk food. "Don't forget your vegetables," he joked, throwing a bag of Funyuns that hit Sam in the face.

Sam didn't protest, opening the bag and quietly munching on the contents.

Gracie made a face at the junk, wishing silently for a hot meal. But, that meant that she'd be the one doing the cooking, more than likely, and she didn't feel up to it.

Dean took his jacket and shoes off, moving to the bed he was sharing with Sam and opening a can of soda, taking a long sip.

Gracie had resigned herself to Cheetos for dinner and was starting to take a bite.

"I know why you keep a gun under your pillow." Sam's sudden declaration made her miss the cheese puff entirely and bite down on her own tongue, while Dean began sputtering on his soda.

Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, she watched her older brother lift his pillow, revealing a shiny silver pistol, before he put it back again. Gracie didn't remember exactly when Dean had gotten from hiding a switchblade under his pillow, to a real gun, but seeing it made her heart speed up. Even when it was covered up again, the anxiety crawling its way up her throat didn't go away.

"No, you don't." Dean snapped, "Stay out of my stuff."

"And I know why we lay salt down everywhere we go…" Sam continued steadily.

Gracie could feel the tension in the room rising, but Sam seemed oblivious, or maybe he just couldn't go back.

"No, you don't," Dean insisted more forcefully. "Shut up!" He tossed a pillow but Sam managed to duck in time.

Sam stood, walking to the edge of Gracie's bed and going under it. Her heart sank. She knew what it was leading to…something that couldn't be taken back. Just like the night she saw a monster sucking breath from Sam's mouth couldn't be taken back.

Sam put the journal down between the two beds.

Dean rose, incredulous. "Where'd you get that?" he demanded. "Dad's gonna kick your ass for reading that," his voice held a tremor that made Gracie push the Cheetos aside, her appetite gone, as if it hadn't been already.

"Are monsters real?" Sam asked baldly.

"What?" Dean scoffed, "You're crazy!"

' _No, he's not…'_ Gracie thought. _'You know he's not…'_ Gone were the days where she had thought Dean truly didn't know about the supernatural. He knew about it as much as Dad knew…more than her, and more than Sam.

"Dean…Tell us." Dean looked to her, a pained look in his green eyes. Gracie nodded slowly, sitting beside him.

"Alright, neither one of you can tell Dad I told you anything. Sam, especially you."

"Promise!" Sam climbed onto the bed, sitting on Dean's other side.

Dean took a deep breath, his eyes straying to the journal, sitting innocently on the nightstand where Sam placed it. "First things first…we have the universe's coolest dad. Like, superhero cool."

"We do?" Gracie asked.

"Yup. Monsters are real. Dad fights 'em. Well, kills 'em actually. He's off doing that right now. To keep us all safe."

Gracie had known for over two years that her dad kept getting injured, and that it was because of the monsters out there. The things he kept running into. It never occurred to her, for one reason or another, that he was purposely chasing them, trying to get them before they got his family.

"Dad…Dad told me there weren't any under my bed," Sam frowned, pausing to glance at Dean.

"Yeah, 'cause he already checked there. Duh, Sammy," he ruffled his little brother's hair. "But yeah…monsters are real. Pretty much everything is."

"Santa too?" Gracie asked hopefully. Sam's eyes mirrored the same excited expression, and Dean sighed.

"Yeah, last time I checked."

His siblings expelled twin sighs of relief.

"But is Dad really okay out there? The journal said the monsters got Mom! W-What if they get Dad, o-or us—" Sam began to panic, and Gracie quickly took his hand and began to concentrate, thinking of the most relaxing things possible to calm her own mind. Sam's tight grip loosened, his body slumping into hers. Dean didn't seem to notice, but Gracie was starting to think that she could control it if she wanted to. Control other people's feelings…She'd have to ask Mr. Joshua.

"Dad'll be fine out there, Sam. He knows what he's doing. He's the best. …Hey, you both okay so far?"

Gracie slowly nodded, because really, what else could she do? But Sam didn't look too good. Her trick didn't work long. He was back to worrying again; she could tell.

"Dean…" Sam glanced down, avoiding making eye contact. "I…I just wanna go to bed."

Dean and Gracie both looked at him with concern, but gave him space as he laid prostate on top of the sheets. "Yeah, okay… Night then."

"Night…" Sam whispered.

"Dad'll be here in time for Christmas, so cheer up okay?"

Sam didn't respond, but Gracie was aware that he was quietly crying into the pillow. Every urge wanted to lay down next to him, to hug him…but she was tired to her bones, so she silently walked around the side of the bed, smiling sheepishly at Dean and then crawling into her own bed, not bothering to change her clothes.

She snuggled down into the sheets and tried to block out Sam's crying. When her brothers hurt, she hurt. And Sam was hurting so much…but so was she. Touching might make it worse, might make him feel what she was feeling.

"It'll all be better when you wake up," she heard Dean say, "Promise."

* * *

Gracie wasn't surprised when Christmas came and went, and John was a no show. It broke her heart, and Sam's…but more than that, it broke something in their faith. Parents couldn't always be relied on. But Dean was there. He had gifts for them, even if they were ones he stole…he still tried to give them the Christmas that Daddy didn't. She loved him for that.

Instead, they all unwrapped presents. She was proud that she'd saved up the money to get them two presents each. Dean loved his model Impala, despite blushing and telling her he was too old for toy cars. And the single shark tooth she'd been lucky to find when she went beach-combing with her class in Maine was now dangling from a bracelet she made herself. Dean slipped it onto his wrist and told her he'd keep it as a good luck charm. It went well with the necklace Sam gave him.

Sam got the new issue of a Marvel comic he'd been eyeing and a Transformers action figure and girl gifts from Dean that he happily traded with her for the paddle ball and jack set that ended up being in the boxes Dean swiped for her.

They played in the snow and built a fort, waging war on Dean together. Gracie made sure to change into dry clothes the minute they came inside, and then made them a late breakfast of pancakes while they watched the Charlie Brown Christmas special on TV. It wasn't the Christmas her classmates had, but it was hers. A memory she'd keep deep in her heart forever.

After that, everything changed. John came home and Dean had to tell him that they knew about the supernatural. He was angry, like Gracie was scared he might be. He yelled at them for what felt like hours. She was afraid he might hit Sam, but after he called down, he told them the next stop, before he went on another job, they had to start training.

That was how it all happened…

 **~SPN~**

Gracie shifted the position of her hands on the pistol as she aimed. The cool metal was heavy in her hands, and in the back of her mind she was afraid that her sweaty palms would cause it to slip right out of her grip. She tried to keep her arms held straight as she took aim. After all, she had an audience.

One glance over her shoulder, and she saw Daddy standing with his arms crossed, waiting. For the last few weeks, she and Sammy had to learn how to clean and take apart the guns, then put them back together. Daddy timed them, like they did in the Marines. He gave them pop quizzes on naming the different parts of the gun.

Sometimes after homework was finished, they couldn't watch TV or go to bed until they had both listed the names of at least five monsters that were weak to silver bullets. Hunter training was…well, Dean told her this was probably the easiest part. It would only be getting harder. John never stopped being demanding, so Gracie believed it. "Take it out," John urged, pointing to the empty beer cans he had stacked up about twelve feet away.

Nodding, she took a ready stance, centering her feet and squinting through one eye. Her heart was beating so hard, so fast…she just wanted it all to be over with. She squeezed the trigger…the recoil hit her the minute the bullet left the barrel and dinged against one of the cans, making it wobble, but not fall over. A failure.

"You're still hesitating way, and aiming too far to the right." John observed. "And fix your grip, you'll break your wrist like that."

"Sorry!" she frowned. "I…Want me to do it again?"

"No," John rubbed his face. His cheeks were darkening with stubble more every day, and he had bags under his eyes. Gracie's heart sinking, feeling like she was just a bigger burden on him, not pulling her own weight. "Give the gun to your brother."

Pouting, Gracie trudged toward Sam, making sure the safety was clicked on and pointing the muzzle away from him as she handed it over. He tried to give her a little smile to cheer her up, but she was too embarrassed to smile back, so she took her place next to Dean. Sam took the safety off the gun, squinting at the distance.

"Hey, Dad?" he turned to look at John.

"What is it son?"

"If I take out all the cans, am I gonna be ready to come with you on a hunt?"

Next to her, she could feel Dean's anxiety, so she latched onto his arm. She wasn't sure why Sam seemed so eager to go on hunts. When they were alone together, he complained constantly about the training, about not being able to play as much, about how monsters being real still scared him sometimes—most of the time.

But in front of John, he was always trying to impress, happily talking about hunting all the time, now that he knew what was going on. He'd ask where they were going next and what John would be hunting there. Gracie knew his true feelings. That he just wanted Daddy to be proud of him, because she felt the same. But she still felt left behind.

"You're just getting to the basics. It's way too soon to be talking about you coming on hunts. You'd both just be distractions right now,"

Sam's shoulders slumped forward. "Dean got to go on hunts at my age, right?"

"Dean was ready." John told him, "So go ahead and take your shot, Sam."

Sam took aim, and pulled the trigger without hesitation. He managed to knock over at least three cans, and a fourth wobbled precariously. "Hm. A little better than last time," John conceded. Sam was beaming as he flicked the safety back on and rejoined them. Gracie was happy for him. John Winchester didn't hand out praise but…if his honest assessment wasn't scolding, then it was the next best thing to receive.

Still, she knew she had a long, long way to go.

* * *

 **I understand that sometimes it's slow going but if you truly enjoy this story, consider leaving a comment, no matter how much or how little you have to say. As long as it's nothing totally rude or unrelated to the story, I'd like to hear it. Thanks to some of you who always come back to comment no matter how long or brief it's been between updates. I see and appreciate you greatly~**

 **I look forward to writing the next chapter since we're now officially in little!hunter years.**


End file.
